


Dangan Ronpa Negative

by ProfessorPlaz



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Gen, oc fic, very few canon characters, we're trying to make this fit in with canon but we might fail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorPlaz/pseuds/ProfessorPlaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy’s state-of-the-art detention center! From our neat little dorms to our open mess hall, everything is in tip-top shape (or it is as far as I can care)!</p><p>We currently have a total of sixteen troublemakers. But don’t worry, I’m more than prepared for these numbers to dwindle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Dangan Ronpa Negative! This is a fanfiction written by myself (ichigo-silky on tumblr, although I change it every month) and my good friend Austin (ProfessorPlaz on Ao3; the-holiday-professor on tumblr, but I'm pretty sure he changes it monthly as well), with a bit of occasional assistance from our friend Allie (who doesn't have a tumblr). It all started when Austin said he wanted to make an Dangan Ronpa OC fic, and it all took off from there. We've already started work for the second half of the prologue, and we hope you enjoy what we have so far!
> 
> If you want to post about the story on tumblr (be it reactions, predictions, headcanons, fanart, or anything at all) please tag it with "#dangan ronpa negative." You can tag it with character names as well, but make sure you get that tag in, as it's the one both Austin and I track!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for this first chapter: brief pedophilia mention, homophobia, guns, and a brief bit of slut shaming.

Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s staggering size and presence makes it live up to the nickname of “The Beacon of Hope.” It’s known all over for being one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. It only accepts the most talented students who are the best of their field. These amazing students are given a title as a Super High School Level Student. The school’s recruited talents range from a famous celebrity magician to a popular comedian, from a top make-up artist to a prodigy ballet dancer. These students who are lucky enough to go there and graduate are said to be set for life. And, well, I guess that makes me even more lucky, considering I don’t actually have a talent.  
  
Oh! I got so wrapped up in explaining the school that I didn’t even tell you who I am! My name is Yui Saito and I’m a new student at Hope’s Peak. Like I said, I don’t have any interesting talent like most of the students. Instead, I was chosen by pure luck from a random lottery. I guess that’s why my title is Super High School Level Good Luck. It doesn’t really count for much, but I don’t mind! I mean, I had-‘t really been hopi-g for m—h anyway. Ac-ually, I di-n’t re—ly wan- -o go to H—-’s —-k — -h- f—— ——-___—_=-=-=-=_-_=-__=-_—=-_-=_-_=—-_——___—=

**PROLOGUE - WELCOME TO DESPAIR DETENTION**

I smell the dusty odor of cobwebs around me. I can hear the faint dripping of water. My body feels sore, beaten, and tired as I lay on my bed.

Huh? My bed? Wait a moment…

Struggling, I open my eyes and attempt to sit up straight. I’m in what looks like a poorly kept hotel room. Dirty, drippy, and disgusting. And yet, it seems familiar, as if I’ve been here before. I wince in pain as I get myself out of bed, realizing I’m still in the hoodie and skirt I was wearing when I came to school this morning.

That’s right! I was going to Hope’s Peak! But then… How did I get here?

Brushing myself off, I turn to the door and notice a post-it note. The words, “Go to the Courtyard!” are messily scribbled on it.

Well… It might give me a clue… Might as well go look.

I make my way down the hallway, pondering how I could have ended up here. Is this some sort of secret initiation ceremony for new students? No, Hope’s Peak wouldn’t do something as odd as this. I turn the corner and head down the hall. Are some of the older students pulling a prank on me? If so, I’m not laughing. As I approach the elevator, my mind slowly comes to a halt as I wonder…

_Was I kidnapped?_

I shake my head to rid myself of those negative thoughts. I need to stay positive. If I really am in a bad situation, then I’ll have plenty of time to be negative later. The elevator doors pull aside, revealing a large decal of the school emblem for Hope’s Peak Academy on the wall of the elevator. Much to my relief, I am, indeed, in the school, or at least in a building it owns. I step in and begin my descent to the lobby.

Like any other hotel or department store, the nonchalant sound of elevator music meets my ears as I descend. Even so, I can’t help but feel that something seems off. It’s something in the melody that reminds me of an event from my past… But what could it have been?

The elevator rings as it reaches the bottom, sliding the doors aside, and revealing the scenery before me: a dull hotel lobby; the walls, floor, and decor all painted in muted tones. I take a step forward, wondering if it's just as empty as it seems. "Hello?" I call out, but no one answers. A glance to my left reveals a receptionist's desk, but no one's sitting behind it. Deciding to venture forward, I make my way towards the front doors. 

Pushing them open, I'm stunned into silence by the land laid out before me: a desolate, cloudy, concrete yard surrounded by chain-link fences. In the middle of the courtyard, a group of students were standing and talking with each other. I guess this is where we’re supposed to meet, then.

As I walk on over to where they all are, one of them, a tall redheaded girl, notices me approaching and yells, “Hey! I think she’s the last one!” directing everyone’s attention to me.

A shorter guy with curly black hair replies to her, “Really, Okuda-san? Excellent. We can move on.” 

A much smaller boy with messy brown hair jumps up and shouts, “Yay! Another pretty girl!”

"Quiet, you! Geez, you’re so annoying," chimed in a girl in a cheerleading uniform.

Well, if I’m the last one here… that means I have to introduce myself, right? Well, it’s necessary if they’re my classmates. We’ll have to get to know each other, after all. “Um…,” I start, projecting my voice so that everyone in the barren courtyard can hear me. “My name is Yui Saito. It’s a pleasure to meet you all!”

 Immediately after I say that, the short boy I’d noticed earlier comes rushing to my side. “We’re doing introductions now, right?” I don’t know what to say, so I nod, and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Great! I’m Ryouta Miyagi!”

 

**Ryouta Miyagi**  
**Height: 4’9’’**  
**Blood Type: A**  
**Birthday: October 10**  
**Likes: Puns**  
**Dislikes: Arguing**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Comedian**

Now I remember. He’s the Super High School Level Comedian. I hear he’s toured across Japan with his comedy routine, bringing laughter to nearly everyone he meets. Some critics have even nicknamed him “Red Velvet Miyagi” based on his sweet, comforting personality.

I’m not on the tall side, but this boy… I’m nearly a head taller than him! Is he… really a high school student? Everything about his appearance seems youthful, from the messy cut of his brown hair to the cute elephant decal on his oversized sweater. And he has such big brown eyes… there’s no way he’s any older than eleven.

Miyagi pouts a little, narrowing his eyes at me, which hardly makes them seem smaller. “You really earn the name Saito, you know.”

“H-huh? Why’s that?”

Miyagi’s angry look disappears, and it’s replaced with a beaming grin. “Because you’re staring!” He laughs, high and chiming, almost like a bell. “I know what you’re thinking! ‘This guy looks nothing like a high schooler, right?’” I want to be surprised that he knew what I was thinking, but I’m too caught up in his impression of me. It doesn’t sound mocking, but instead it feels light-hearted. It isn’t very accurate, but something about it makes me smile.

“You’re… the Super High School Level Comedian, right?”

Thankfully, Miyagi nods. “Correct! I’ve dedicated my life to making each and every person in the world smile and laugh. If other people are happy, it makes me happy, too!”

That seems like such a noble cause… even if the idea of being a comedian seems a little silly. Still, I can’t say I don’t enjoy a good laugh every so often. Something tells me Miyagi will be a good person to have around, especially given this dreadful atmosphere.

From behind, I feel two delicate taps on my shoulder. It feels so coordinated and perfect, almost as if it had been practiced. I turn around and come face-to-face with an elegant-looking girl dressed in a modest skirt and blouse. “Hello there. My name is Misaki Hisakawa.”

**Misaki Hisakawa**  
**Height: 5’6’’**  
**Blood Type: B**  
**Birthday: March 4**  
**Likes: Peach blossom tea**  
**Dislikes: Unwanted attention**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Ballet Dancer**

Misaki Hisakawa… from what I’ve read on the internet, she’s one of the top dancers in the country. She’s played starring roles in several professional ballet production, including The _Nutcracker_ ,  _Swan Lake_ ,  _Giselle_ , and  _La Bayadar_. She’s also placed well in many national competitions, and she’s even competed internationally a few times.

I have to say, I’m impressed. I’ve heard ballet is really painful for your feet, and you can break your ankle dancing if your shoes aren’t the right size. It’s not something I could ever do. Still, despite all that, she looks every bit as graceful as I would have expected. Long, dark hair that curls at the end; porcelain skin; violet eyes… I think I’m already a little taken.

Hisakawa, on the other hand, seems to falter a little under my stare. “I know what you’re going to say,” she tells me, smiling despite the worried tone to her voice. “You must think I’m the sort of girl who relies on her looks to get through life, right?”

“What?” No, I wasn’t…”

As soon as I say that, the fretful look in her eyes subsides,  and she’s absolutely beaming. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah… I mean, we only just met, and you haven’t made a bad impression.”

She actually looks a bit surprised at this. “I… I haven’t?” Then she’s smiling again, pleased as ever. “Well then, I hope we get along in the days to come!”

“Thanks, me too.” Is she used to people disliking her?  I can’t see why; it seems like you’d have to actively look for negative qualities in order to find one.

A girl in a cheerleading uniform is hovering close by Hisakawa, so it makes sense to talk to her next. I try to approach her, but something about her closed-off stance drives me away. She reminds me of girls back in my middle school; the ones that used to make fun of me because of my weight. She’s not going to be like them, is she…?

She seems to notice my struggle, and she scowls at me. She seems irritated by my presence. I think about leaving, but my efforts are halted when she speaks to me directly. “Do you  _need_  something?”

“Uh, I was hoping for an introduction. I’m Yui Sa—“

“Yeah, I heard. I’m… My name’s Ayaka Kurosawa.”

**Ayaka Kurosawa**  
**Height: 5’4’’**  
**Blood Type: AB**  
**Birthday: November 20**  
**Likes: Sports**  
**Dislikes: Most people**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Cheerleader**

The way she says her own name… It sounds so venomous, almost like she hates it. I can’t imagine why she would, though. Ayaka is a really pretty name.

Speaking of her name, I hear it’s the talk of her high school. She’s incredibly popular; which isn’t surprising, considering she’s the captain of her school’s cheerleading team. I hear she’s helped lead some of the most impressive cheer routines people have ever seen, and she’s motivated the school sports teams to victory countless times. She was even nominated for homecoming queen both years in middle school, but apparently she turned down the nomination both times. That makes her seem so humble, so…

…How can someone like that be the person standing before me now? With the way she’s staring at the wall and crossing her arms, it seems like she expects me to just go away. Is… is that what I should do?

But… we just met! She should at least try to be friendly. Hasn’t she ever heard of making a good first impression? “Hey!”

“What?” she snaps, and the glare she throws at me is nearly enough to make me lose my nerve.

“Y-you shouldn’t be so cold! We just met, a-and we might have to work together to find a way out of here, so—!”

For a second, she almost looks a little impressed. Then she sneers, like my very presence is disgusting. “Whatever. I’ll cooperate, sure, but I don’t plan on letting others into my personal space.”

She’s keeping me at arm’s length… How does someone like her make friends so easily?

I turn around to meet the next student, a boy wearing khakis and a jacket, with a head of thick curly black hair. He’s tapping his foot, but not to any rhythm other than a consistent beat after beat after beat. And yet he doesn’t look impatient. Actually, he looks rather nervous.

“Hi,” I say, “My name is Yui Saito. It’s nice to meet you…” He stops his foot and looks up.

“Oh! Uh! You’re the Super High School Level Good Luck, then? A pleasure to meet you. I heard you were selected out of every average student in the country! That’s such a huge number of people, and so little chance that you could make it! And yet, here you are!” For someone who had moments early looked lonely and nervous, he certainly was sociable and had a lot to say.

“And you are…?”

“Oh, my bad! I completely forgot to introduce myself to you! What a laugh! Anyway, I go by Hikaru Fujita.”

**Hikaru Fujita**  
**Height: 5’5’’**  
**Blood Type: O**  
**Birthday: February 2nd**  
**Likes: Brainstorming, combs**  
**Dislikes: Anything crooked, scratched, out of place, etc.**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Filmmaker**

That’s right. Hikaru Fujita was the director and lead editor of one of the movies that was playing in my hometown a few months ago. It got great scores in the box office and critics were calling it the film of the decade. He’s come first place in film festivals across Japan and he even runs his own studio, Wise Fool’s Films. He has a way of commanding his audience’s attention and drawing out all kinds of emotion.

“Anyway, I’m the Super High School Level Filmmaker, expert on the big screen! But enough about me! What do you think of this setting?” He grins wildly, nothing like the nervous foot tapper I saw earlier. His eyes had an entirely different gleam from behind his thick rimmed glasses.

“It looks… gloomy, I guess?” I don’t know how to respond to his questions, and I’m still pretty tired from waking up a while ago.

“Gloomy works, yes, but; I was thinking more along the lines of mystery, romanticism, horror. I could make so many great scenes with this courtyard’s fog banks!” While he elaborates on his plans for shooting, he takes out a comb and begins adjusting his hair.

“Just imagine! A couple close-ups and medium shots—reversals added in as well—and I can toss in a script… Let’s call it…’Raven’s Will’ and it would be simply fantastic! …Oh! But that’s enough about me. You still have everyone else to talk to, don’t you? Alrighty, go on ahead!” He pockets the comb and walks off, leaving me behind. Fujita is certainly charismatic; he’s got a lot of personality and even more to say. Even so, I can’t help but wonder why he was so nervous looking earlier.

Nearby, a tall, blond boy catches my eye. Maybe it’s the way he’s dressed—his pink and black ensemble is flattering as well as striking. His hair is pretty noticeable, too; light, sunshiny blond with the tips dyed pink in the front. I’ve… never seen a boy dress like that before.

All too suddenly, he looks straight at me, as if suddenly noticing my presence. Was I staring? I didn’t mean to. My skin feels prickly; probably a common reaction to thinking you’ve offended someone you’ve just met.

“Saito-san, right?” I can’t read his expression, which just makes my situation all the more nervous-making.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I manage to spit it out without stammering, and I almost feel as if I should be proud of myself.

The boy smiles, and I feel like posture relax. “Great! You can call me Reisuke Akemiyama!”

**Reisuke Akemiyama**  
**Height: 5’11’’**  
**Blood Type: A**  
**Birthday: March 3**  
**Likes: Dressing up**  
**Dislikes: Centipedes**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Makeup Artist**

Reisuke Akemiyama, huh? He’s really beautiful… although, I guess that could be the makeup talking. Akemiyama’s made headlines in not only the theater business, where he first made his mark; but in the film, photography, fashion, and modeling industries as well. And that’s all without mentioning his impact in Japan’s cosmetics business. He’s a master with the makeup brush; whether it’s just a touch-up or a complete transformation. I’ve heard he’s even started to dabble in special effects makeup.

He really does look fantastic. Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll give me a makeover. His honey-colored eyes, lined in black and shining with lilac eyeshadow, dart from left to right. “Hey… you don’t think…”

“Huh? Think what?”

He purses his pink lips. “That this is… you know. Some sort of kidnapping.”

“What!?” It hadn’t occurred to me, but… he’s right. To suddenly fall asleep outside of school, and to wake up  _here_ … This situation reeks of potential danger. “I… I guess I can see what you mean.” I don’t want to believe I’m in any danger, but the possibility is impossible to ignore; a fact which makes me sweat.

Akemiyama recoils at my reaction. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out.” Anxiously, he wrings his hands together (his nails are striped; sky blue and banana yellow). “I just…,” he cuts himself off, before whispering to himself, “damn, this sucks!” He’s quick to compose himself, taking a deep breath before looking at me with a freshly painted smile. “I should really stop worrying so much. If you ever wanna hang out or anything, just ask. You seem sweet.”

He does, too… but there’s got to be more to him than just a pretty face.

I feel a grab on my shoulders and I freeze up. Is Akemiyama right? Were we really kidnapped?

“Boo!” And instantly, I feel both relief and anger.

“Wh-what was that for?” I whirl around and stammer. A tall guy in a trench coat, his long black hair highlighted in green, grins at me. I push his fingerless gloves off my shoulders. Who is this guy? He looks like a steampunk enthusiast of some sort.

“Eh, couldn’t resist myself. Honest joking. My name is Kumori Kimura. And really, I meant you no harm.”

**Kumori Kimura**  
**Height: 5’10’’**  
**Blood Type: AB**  
**Birthday: October 31**  
**Likes: Burnt toast**  
**Dislikes: Water, getting wet**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Toymaker**

“Super High School Level Toymaker? You… Make toys?” I didn’t even know people still made toys by hand. I thought everything was mass produced in factories these days.

“Dolls, trains, wind-ups, you name it, I can make it.” He coughs into his sleeve and looks up.

“Most city people don’t seem to appreciate simple things, though. They need their fancy uPods or whatever. I went to Tokyo once, though. Much brighter and crueler than in Usuki.” He didn’t strike me as the old fashioned type, but considering his talent, I guess it makes sense now.

“Even so, there’s perks to living in more traditional areas. For example, people are really superstitious about everything. So all I gotta do is plop on a mask and make some noises. Everyone’s scared and I’m talk of the town. Easy pranking.” This guy… He’s on his own level of lows in pranking. Fooling people into thinking you’re some sort of yokai… What is he thinking?

“Oh. Thank you, Kimura, for explaining why you almost gave me a heart attack.” His entire facial expression changes.

“Heart attack? Do you have a heart condition? Oh geez, you do! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know! I-“

“I was joking. It’s a figure of speech. I wasn’t really having a heart attack. You just scared me a bit.”

“Is that all?” He says, looking somewhat relieved. “Oh thank the gods. I thought I might’ve already broken our friendship before it began.”

He might act childish, but Kimura seems to really care about people. But that obsession with scaring people… I still don’t get it.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” a dark-haired girl asks, approaching me from the side. She looks concerned, but it’s hard to tell with her calm facial features and layers of dark eye makeup. Her all black clothing makes her look pretty neutral… until I catch sight of the neon blue hair bobbles keeping a section of her hair up in pigtails, along with matching hair clips; as well as her Hello Kitty and skeleton necklaces. My classmates really enjoy expressing themselves, don’t they?

“No, I’m fine. He just startled me a little. I haven’t met you yet. You’re…?”

She smiles at me, although it’s a little subtle. “Tsukasa Yamamoto.”

**Tsukasa Yamamoto**  
**Height: 5’6’’**  
**Blood Type: AB**  
**Birthday: April 17**  
**Likes: Rhythm games**  
**Dislikes: People who rip her earbuds out**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Guitarist**

That’s right. After reading about Yamamoto on the internet, I went up and searched a few of her band’s songs. They’re called Dusky Neverland, and they play a variety of rock genres. Their music was alright, but the real highlight was the guitar. Yamamoto clearly knows what she’s doing. I hear she’s had to split with them since accepting her invitation to Hope’s Peak, and is hoping to pursue a solo career.

She’s a little quiet, so I guess asking her about that could be a good conversation starter. “You’re the Super High School Level Guitarist, right? I heard you were starting your solo career. Is that going well?”

She threads her fingers through her dark hair; it seems like she’s gathering her thoughts. “So far, it’s been pretty bare bones. Writing music on your own is tough, you know? Less brains to storm with.”

“That sounds like it’d be pretty rough…”

Her lips scrunch up into a pout. “Yeah… but I think being around all of you guys will give me some good ideas. You all seem interesting enough.”

‘Interesting enough.’ I can’t gauge whether that was a compliment or an insult… Yamamoto is a little hard to read.

My attention shifts to a green-haired boy. He’s wearing a messy smock and jeans. He seems awfully focused on a spot from across the courtyard.

“Hi, I’m Yui Saito, Super High School Level Good Luck. What’s your name?”

“I’m… Hideki Narita, the Super High School Level Artist. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

**Hideki Narita**  
**Height: 5’6’’**  
**Blood Type: B**  
**Birthday: November 14**  
**Likes: Christmas trees**  
**Dislikes: Cigarettes**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Artist**

Artist? So he’s the famous Hideki Narita. His paintings are on tour right now throughout the Osaka region. He has one of the widest ranges of art styles that anyone has seen, mimicking the techniques of Picasso, Da Vinci, and Monet perfectly.

“So you’re an artist, then? Are you thinking of painting this scenery, then?”

“Oh please. I’m not Fujita-kun. I couldn’t stand his raving about the gloomy atmosphere. No, I have my eyes on the real prize.” He points across the courtyard and my eyes track to Akemiyama.

“What about Akemiyama? Are you considering asking him to be a subject for one of your pieces?” His gaze barely moves.

“Kinda. I was actually considering what would be the best way to woo a man that beautiful.”

“Huh?” He turns away from Akemiyama to match my puzzled look.

“Woo. Serenade. Flirt. What? Is it strange? I thought teenage girls loved boy on boy action.”

“O-oh! I’m sorry! I just didn’t realize you were gay!” He smiles and pats down his smock.

“Really, now? And you accept the fact so quickly then? Truly a charm, Saito-san, but you know I don’t swing that way.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I can relate. I’m bisexual.”

“Ah! Doubly pleased to meet you, then, Saito-san.” He runs his fingers through his neon rainbow bangs. “If you need any help with pursuing the man or woman of your dreams, please, and I mean please, don’t hesitate to come find me. I would love to help a friend.”

Narita is certainly an attention grabber. He’s definitely going to be an interesting friend to have.

“Hey, I haven’t met you yet!” I hear, and I turn around to face the voice. Instead of staring straight ahead, I end up having to crane my head up to get a good look at the person in front of me. A redheaded girl with a long coat that looks like it came straight out of some old-timey war. Her hair’s tied up in a ponytail with a red and gold ribbon. Other than that, her clothes are… daring, to say the least. “The name’s Katsu Okuda! Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

**Katsu Okuda**  
**Height: 6’3’’**  
**Blood Type: AB**  
**Birthday: May 10**  
**Likes: Traveling**  
**Dislikes: Being told what to do**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Historian**

Katsu Okuda… Strangely enough, I remember the name from my eighth grade history text book. She was one of the writers, despite being in sixth grade at the time of publication. Before that, she had written many insightful, albeit controversial research essays. I’ve heard she’s traveled all over the world, and she uses the information she finds to bring new light to previously hazy topics. She seems to specialize in information regarding the late 1700s, although she’s certainly breeched dozens of other topics before.

I would not have expected such a classy-sounding girl to come to school orientation in a corset, push-up bra, and booty shorts. I didn’t expect her to be so… big, either. She towers over nearly everyone here. Somehow… the way she dresses makes her seem more mature, or at least a little older.

Okuda crosses her arms, her shoulders rising a little. “Just a fair warning: you should watch out for some of the guys here. It’s only been ten minutes, and I’ve already caught one of them eying me up.” With the way she’s dressed, I’m not really surprised. I hope they don’t try anything. But in a way, I can relate. She’s so tall… it’s pretty hard not to notice— “Make that one guy and one girl.”

I turn bright red at this. Had I really been staring? Okuda glares hard at me, and suddenly I have the urge to hide in my hoodie.

After a beat, Okuda’s death glare softens, and she tucks an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever. You seem like a nice girl, so it’s no problem.” She leans forward, hands on her hips, getting right up near my face. “But if it happens again, don’t expect me to be so kind!”

I almost salute. “Y-yes, ma’am! Whatever you say, ma’am!”

She laughs a little before shoving me aside. Okuda might be a caring person, but she’s definitely intimidating. I’ll be careful around her.

Okuda’s push may have been playful, but she’s just as strong as she looks. I stumble backwards, and end up bumping into a tiny girl with meticulously styled dark blue curls. She squeaks, tumbling to the ground due to her size. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just…!”

Suddenly, she laughs, loud enough to bounce against the walls of the courtyard. “Oh, wow! I haven’t taken a fall like  _that_  in a while. Now I’m all pumped up!” She beams at me, sitting upright before hopping to her feet in a rather dramatic fashion. “A- _hem_! Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests! Allow me to introduce myself! I am the one and only Tama Kaneko, otherwise known as the Magnificent Tama-chan!”

**Tama Kaneko**  
**Height: 5’1’’**  
**Blood Type: B**  
**Birthday: March 24**  
**Likes: Glitter**  
**Dislikes: Tapioca pudding**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Magician**

“‘Magnificent Tama-chan…?’” I echo. I can hardly help it; it just sounds so… silly.

Kaneko doesn’t seem off-put by my reaction, though. “It’s my stage name! I’ve been traveling all across Japan, showcasing my amazing feats to all sorts of people! Wonder, suspense, and magic! I’m sure you get it.”

Of course I do. I’ve seen her performances on TV before. I was astonished the first time I saw one of her tricks. I tried thinking of how she could have done it; I looked at it from every angle, but I couldn’t figure it out. It could have only been magic. I guess that really is the work of the Super High School Level Magician.

“Y-yeah, I understand, but… there’s really no need to be so big about it.”

Kaneko laughs again, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t worry! I’m not usually like that. That’s just my stage persona!”

I just end up echoing her words again. “Stage persona?”

“You know, like a personality you use to attract your audience. I’m not the same person I am on stage. If I was, I would be pretty dimensionless!” Her smile fades, and she gives me a serious look. “No, I’m much more complicated than that. All of us are,” and then she’s grinning from ear to ear again, belting out her words with unmatched enthusiasm. “But I guess that’s just the wonder of performing, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is…” She says she isn’t like her stage persona, but she’s still a rather tiring person.

“Oh come on, Kaneko-chan! We both know who has the  _real_  winning personality here!” I turn to see where the voice is coming from, and I practically choke on thin air when I see who it is. I… I knew she was going to be here, but wow. I never once dreamed of meeting someone as famous as her.

She takes in my expression and smirks. “No need for an introduction, I assume?”

**Tsuruko Nishi**  
**Height: 5’5’’**  
**Blood Type: B**  
**Birthday: December 23**  
**Likes: The spotlight**  
**Dislikes: Moths**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Actress**

“N-Nishi-sama! I… It-it’s an honor to meet you!” I blurt out, bowing deeply. I’d feel too rude calling her “Nishi,” especially when I’m such a big fan.

Tsuruko Nishi got her start as a child, playing a small role in the TV drama  _Sparks of Obsession_. As time went on, her talent grew, and she expanded to acting on stage as well. Currently she plays the leading role in the hit TV show  _The Flower’s Dream_ , of which I am a huge fan. I wish I wasn’t acting so nervous, but I seriously can’t believe this is happening to me. When I read her name on the class roster, I nearly fainted. And now, to finally meet her person…! It’s as if—

“Geez, no need to be so formal!” I hear her scold. “Just Nishi is fine.”

I suddenly realize I’m still in a bowing position, and I stand upright, feeling my ears burn. “R-really?”

“Well,  _duh_! We  _are_  going to be classmates, after all. Hearing you all me ‘Nishi-sama’ all the time would be a little grating on the ears.”

“I-I completely understand!” I say it louder than I should, which embarrasses me even more. Way to go, Yui. You’re totally not making a fool of yourself in front of your celebrity crush.

She shrugs, and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. “It’s cool. I get called much weirder names by fans. Master, Princess, Angel… I’ve seen it all. A couple of old weirdos have even referred to me as a god! It’s pretty common with famous people.”

Nearby, Kaneko frowns. “Nobody’s ever called  _me_  a god…”

Nishi chuckles. “Not famous like you, sweetie. I’m talking about the big shots.”

That… was a sudden change in attitude. Maybe I need to let go of my infatuation; at least a little.

An awfully tall guy cloaked in white robes came walking toward me. His light brown hair is kinda short on the sides, but the top of his hair spills over. It almost looks like he has little wings on his head.

“Guten Tag, Fräulein. Your name is Saito, correct?” He has a pretty strong German accent, but it doesn’t hinder his speech much.

“Yeah. Yui Saito. And your name is?” He smiles gently and closes his eyes.

“My name is Father Kris Kantor, messenger of The Lord and Savior.”

**Kris Kantor**  
**Height: 6’1”**  
**Blood Type: A**  
**Birthday: January 2**  
**Likes: Choruses**  
**Dislikes: Mud**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Priest**

Kris Kantor? Oh. He must be the foreign exchange student, then. He’s from a small village in eastern Germany that has recently become quite the tourist attraction. Kris is apparently the leader of a huge religious revival in Germany. He’s managed to convert over a million people to Catholicism.

“So, you’re from Germany, right? How did someone so young like you become a priest?” He tilts his head, still smiling. He seems so gentle and kind. No wonder he’s the Super High School Level Priest.

“Well, Fräulein Saito, I’m not actually a real priest. I don’t get my license until a couple years from now.” Suddenly, his smile contorts into a menacing grimace. He looks furious. “However, this school refused to call me the Super High School Level Prophet, as I had requested. Damn heathens.”

“Whoa! Are… you okay?” He’s acting so differently all of a sudden. Nothing like before.

“Oh, nothing. Just ruing the name of Hope’s Peak Academy for not recognizing my superiority. I still can’t believe I was put with that fop Narita, though. I will pray that he grows out of his homosexuality soon.” This… this bigot! What the hell is his problem?!

“Hey. You. Leave her alone.”

I have barely enough time to react before a rifle appears in front of me, aimed at Kris. A guy with a jean vest over a black turtleneck is pointing it at the homophobic priest, his eyes obscured by his black bangs.

“…F-fine. D-damn you to hell.” Kris turns around and walks away. That’s a relief. I can’t believe he’s actually like that, though.

“Are you hurt, Saito-kojin?” The guy in the vest lowers his gun. His expressions are difficult to read, but he seems to mean well.

“No, I’m fine. You stopped him before he starting spouting his bullshit. I forgot to ask, but what’s your name?” He stares at me a while, studying my face, before speaking.

“Isamu Koga. And Itou-chan.” He holds up his gun next to him.

**Isamu Koga**  
**Height: 5’8”**  
**Blood Type: A**  
**Birthday: May 27**  
**Likes: Doorknobs**  
**Dislikes: Labels**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Marksman**

I can’t say I had ever heard of him before I saw him on the class roster. It’s illegal to own a gun unless you’re an officer or you have a special permit by the government, so he must have permission to carry that thing.

“What did you call your gun? Itou-chan?” That’s a really odd name for a rifle. Itou, as a first name, means “string” or “rope” so it’s pretty strange that he would name his gun that.

“Yes. Itou-chan is my rifle. She is important to me.”

“Well, isn’t it dangerous to carry a gun on school grounds?”

“Do not worry, Saito-kojin. Itou-chan isn’t loaded.” It isn’t loaded? That was just a hollow threat he made to Kris, then.

“Why didn’t you mention that earlier? And here I thought Kris was in danger.”

He blinks and shrugs, “It didn’t seem important.”

Huh. Koga means well, but I guess he’s just… a little odd in how he acts.

I notice a girl in a pale kimono in the corner of the courtyard. She’s all by herself, with her hair covering one of her eyes. She looks awfully lonely. I should probably go talk to her.

As I approach her, I smile and say, “Oh! Hi there!” She looks up, somewhat surprised. “My name’s Yui Saito. What’s yours?”

She looks away nervously, as if she doesn’t know what to do. “Um… Wh-who, me…?”

“Of course. I mean, you’re the only one over here in this corner.” I then realize she might have secluded herself on purpose. “Oh! Did you want to be alone?”

“N-no of course not…! I’m just, used to being alone is all…”

“Oh that’s great! What’s your name, again?”

She gives me a shy smile. “O-oh…! My name is Hanako… Hanako Tsukino…”

**Hanako Tsukino**  
**Height: 5’7”**  
**Blood Type: AB**  
**Birthday: February 29**  
**Likes: Soft blankets**  
**Dislikes: Loud noises**  
**Talent: Super High School Level ???**

Hanako Tsukino? I don’t remember that name from the online class roster. Then again, there were lot of people on the list that aren’t here.

“Nice to meet you Tsukino. I mean to ask, though… What’s your talent?”

She tenses up and starts to back away. “M-my talent…?” She might be insecure about it. I probably shouldn’t have asked.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me! I understand.”

Surprise fills her eyes as she says, “R-really…?”

“Of course! You can tell me later, when you feel comfortable about it.”

Tsukino is withdrawn, introverted, and shy, but I feel I’ll become good friends with her. If she opens up, that is.

I head back to the rest of the group and I notice someone I haven’t talked to yet. He looks as dazed and confused as when I got here. He probably got out of the elevator while I was talking with Tsukino. I should introduce myself.

As I walk up to him, I can’t help but think he looks familiar. He has short-cut orange hair and cycling shorts. Do I know him?

He steps forward, frowning, slightly apathetic. “Hey. I’m Naoko Yoshida. Please, just call me that.”

**Naoko Yoshida**  
**Height: 5’5”**  
**Blood Type: B**  
**Birthday: April 22**  
**Likes: Mushrooms**  
**Dislikes: Being teased**  
**Talent: Super High School Level Cyclist**

That’s right! He’s the cycling prodigy that won the Tour de France last year! He’s been competing and cycling since he was young and now he’s a champion of the bicycle. Even so, I feel like I know his face from somewhere other than magazine articles.

“Hey… Is that… Is that you, Saito? Don’t tell me you forgot me!” He was glaring grumpily at me. Do I really know him from somewhere? If not, then how does he know my name?

“Sorry… I honestly don’t remember. How do you know me?”

“You really forgot then, Saito. Geez. We went to grade school together!” Did we? I… think we might have? That would explain why I remember him.

“I’m sorry, Yoshida, I really don’t remember you.”

“That’s probably for the better. I mean, I used to bully you a lot.” He was one of the bullies? One of the kids who’d push me, make fun of my weight, and flush my lunch down the school toilets?

“We were dumb kids and I really just want to start over. Agreed?” He puts on a light smile as he extends his hand forward. “Friends?”

“You know I’m not going to forgive you that easily, Yoshida. You have no idea how badly you hurt me.”

He stumbles back, upset by this. “R-really? I can’t even make friends with you?” Oh no. I cringe away and shut my eyes. Is he going to get mad? Or hurt me again? Or make fun of me?

“…Fine. I understand. I’ll try to show that you can trust me.”

“You’re… not going to hurt me? You’re not even angry?”

He glares back at me. “What? I said I don’t do that stuff anymore. Especially to friends. Geez, Saito.”

I… guess I don’t know how to go about with him. I can’t just forgive him, but holding grudges never solves anything. Plus, he’s changed… I think.

Just as I finish talking to Naoko, a booming voice catches my attention. “Uh, excuse me? Over here, please!” Okuda has dragged some kind of crate into the middle of the courtyard, and is standing on top of it as she calls us to attention. As if she doesn’t already tower over all of us. Once everyone has settled down, she grins, seeming pleased with her authority. “Great. Now, since we’ve all gotten to know each other, it’s definitely in our best interest to get out of this…,” she takes a quick look at the tall fences surrounding us, “confinement.”

Kurosawa is the first to speak, shrill and demanding. “Who died and made  _you_  queen?”

Okuda doesn’t miss a beat. “Queens don’t need to die to pass on their power; they just have to abdicate from the throne. I appreciate the compliment, though.”

Kurosawa rolls her eyes, and a little huffing sound escapes her lips. “I mean, why are you in charge?”

“I’ve been studying leaders my entire life. I think I know more than you do about what it takes to properly lead people.”

At this, Kurosawa’s face turns red with anger. “I’ll have you know I was captain of my middle school cheer team since, like, eighth grade! And they usually only hand that position out to  _ninth_  graders! If anyone’s going to lead here, it oughta be  _me_!”

“Ooooh,” I hear Nishi snicker, “major meltdown! And we’ve hardly been here twenty minutes!”

Kurosawa doesn’t takes kindly to this. “Shut up, you stupid whore!”

Nishi freezes in place, and from the look on her face, I can already tell this isn’t going to end well. I take a step back, wondering how a school full of such prestigious teenagers could still devolve to petty drama. Nishi manages to compose herself after a second, running a cucumber-melon-scented hand through her hair. “At least I don’t do my hair in pigtails. Seriously, are you seven?”

Kurosawa lunges for her, and the courtyard is suddenly filled with Nishi’s bloodcurdling scream. I close my eyes for a second, hoping to stay completely unassociated with any sort of oncoming catfight. I hear Miyagi squeal, “Please, stop!” and Okuda shout, “Hey! Don’t you dare!”

When I open my eyes, Hisakawa has her arms wrapped around Kurosawa’s waist, forcing her away from Nishi as best as she can. Nishi has taken this as her opportunity to escape, and has created a sizable difference between herself and Kurosawa.

“Let _go_  of me!” Kurosawa is yelling, flailing about wildly in Hisakawa’s grip. “If I wanna punch a bitch, there’s no way I’m letting you stop me!” She draws her elbow back and hits Hisakawa squarely in the stomach; clearly a miscalculation on her part. Hisakawa coughs, releasing her grip on Kurosawa and keeling over in pain.

“Geez. Kurosawa sure is a bitch, huh?” Yoshida whispers to me, but he isn’t quiet enough.

“What—I…!” Kurosawa sputters, looking surprisingly guilty. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

From the corner of my eye, I see Hikaru rush over to Nishi’s side, nervously eying her up and down. “Are you alright, Nishi-san? Any scratches or hairs out of place?”

“What about  _me_?” Hisakawa groans, holding her stomach.

“Okay…,” Okuda awkwardly continues, effectively ignoring Hisakawa’s sounds of pain, “now that that’s out of the way, I propose we look around for a way out. It’s best to split up for wider coverage, but we shouldn’t go around on our own.”

“Why not?” Kaneko asks, as brightly as ever.

Okuda’s face turns grim. “We don’t know anything about this area. It could be dangerous to roam around, so we should stay in pairs to protect each other.”

“Can’t we just climb the fences?” Hideki asks, absentmindedly playing with a strand of green and purple hair. “They’re pretty tall, but it wouldn’t be too much of a challenge.”

Koga quickly dismisses his idea with a shake of his head. “The fences are electric. I threw a tuft of grass at them earlier, and it was burned by the shock.”

Beside him, Kimura scowls. “Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

Koga shrugs. “It didn’t seem important.”

Kimura’s expression doesn’t change. “Of course it didn’t.”

“So that’s why we have to split up and  _look_  for an exit!” Okuda proclaims. Her expression changes a little as she reassures us, “Don’t worry. As your noble leader, I’ll take Kris so that none of you have to.”

A collective sigh of relief sweeps across the courtyard. Kris is understandably furious. “What is  _that_  supposed to imply!?”

Okuda doesn’t waste any time beating around the bush. “I’m the only one here who’s willing to put up with you.”

Kris begins to object, but it’s drowned out by the rest of our classmates, who are busy getting into pairs. On one side of the courtyard I see Kurosawa offering a hand out to Hisakawa. It seems like she’s apologizing. Maybe she’s not that bad after all. On the other end of the courtyard I spot Narita… moving in for the prize, as it were. Reisuke seems noticeably uncomfortable, at least until Yamamoto notices his discomfort and drags him away from the scene.

This… is bad. Not only am I stuck in this miserable place with people I hardly know, but I have no idea who to pair up with, either. Even if I were to ask someone… would they really say yes? I  _am_  the odd one out here, after all. In this courtyard full of amazing, talented kids… I’m just a normal girl.

I shake my head as violently as I can to rid myself of such discouraging thoughts. I was given a great opportunity, even if it’s gone awry. I can’t just stand by the sidelines and watch the others forget about me. That would just be giving up, wouldn’t it?

I start to move forward, determined to find someone to partner up with, but I don’t get anywhere. Someone’s pulling on the hood of my jacket. I turn around, ready to tell them off, but it’s just Yoshida, his gaze downcast as he struggles to find the words to say. Does he… want to look for a way out together?

“Uh… Saito, I-I… Do you want t—“

Before he can finish, a loud chime echoes throughout the courtyard. A few feet away, I see Tsukino shake. “Wh-what was that…?”

As soon as those words escape her mouth, we’re greeted by a cheerful, almost whimsical voice. I didn’t realize this place had a sound system. “Mike check, mike check! Is this thing on? Can you  _heeeeeaaaar_  me? …Alrighty then! Attention all students: please meet at the Grand Hall immediately! Let me repeat in case you didn’t hear: please meet at the Grand Hall immediately!”


	2. Prologue, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Austin decided to upload this prematurely and it had to be edited a lot and it wasn't formatted right and yadda yadda but ANYWAYS the point is that I'm in charge of uploading here now.
> 
> Please enjoy the second (and significantly shorter) half of the prologue!
> 
> Triggers this time around: mention of gun violence, misgendering... sort of (it's Monokuma so idk), ableist language, and mention of nervous breakdowns.

“Mic check, mic check! Is this thing on? Can you _heeeeeaaaar_ me? …Alrighty then! Attention all students: please meet at the Grand Hall immediately! Let me repeat in case you didn’t hear: please meet at the Grand Hall immediately!”

What was that? An announcement from a Hope’s Peak representative? No, it couldn’t have been. That voice seemed so… childish. As if it were from some sort of children’s cartoon. No normal human being sounds like that.

But if it wasn’t a Hope’s Peak representative, then who was it? Are we actually being held captive by some terrorist organization?

I look around the courtyard to see everyone else’s reactions to the message that was just broadcasted. Most of them look just as confused and bewildered as I am, with few exceptions.

“Wh-who in Gott’s name was that?”

“Perhaps a Hope’s Peak official?” Fujita suggests, shakily adjusting his shirt collar.

Yamamoto’s face is grim. “I don’t think any officials sound like that.”

“Hey!” Okuda’s still up on the crate, menacing as ever, but no one seems to pay her any mind.

“So, that’s _officially_ off our list of options.”

“Oh quit it, you little brat!” Kurosawa makes a lunge for Miyagi, who squeals and latches onto the nearest person (his little arms wrap around the sleeve of Kimura’s trenchcoat). Hisakawa wraps her arms around Kurosawa’s waist, effectively holding her back, but Kurosawa puts up quite a struggle, thrashing about as if her life depends on it.

“Hey! Listen to me!” Okuda repeats, her ears redder than her hair.

“Kurosawa-kojin. Away. Now.” Koga aims his gun at Kurosawa, and I’m nervous until I remember it isn’t loaded.

“Yeah! Blow her head off!” I do a double take—there’s no way _Miyagi_ just said that. I turn my head to look, and lo and behold; Miyagi is giving Kurosawa one of the dirtiest looks I’ve ever seen. Kimura puts his hands on his shoulders and pulls him back, and Miyagi’s expression falters, just a bit. It’s too late, though—Miyagi’s outcry has caused an uproar of voices.

In the middle of it all, Kurosawa looks straight into the barrel of Koga’s gun, then to Miyagi, and then to Hisakawa’s arms around her waist. It looks like she’s about to back off when—

“Everyone, shut the _fuck_ up!” Everyone stops and looks back at Okuda, who is practically steaming. “Okay!” she yells, collecting herself and resuming her leader position, “Searching this dump is going to have to wait. For now, I suggest we go to this ‘Grand Hall,’ or whatever the person on the intercom called it.”

“But what if it’s a trap?” Hisakawa suggests, taking a few steps away from Kurosawa. “What if whoever put us here isn’t with Hope’s Peak? And when we go into the hall, they’ll kill us? How can we know something like that won’t happen?”

Yoshida steps forward. “Geez, if they were planning on killing us, we’d be dead already, you dunce!” I shoot him a quick glare and he shrinks back.

“Yoshida, despite his rudeness, is correct. We’ll be perfectly fine, even if we’ve been abducted. Our heads aren’t on the chopping blocks today.” Okuda glances around at the crowd. “Before we go off on a tangent, did anyone find this ‘Grand Hall’ place anywhere?”

Fujita raises his hand and says, “Oh! Um, yeah, actually. I noticed it when I was looking around for a good setting to shoot with. It’s this big spacious hangar not too far from here. There’s nothing inside at all, except for an old airplane and the platform at the back of the room.”

“Good job, Fujita-kun!” Kaneko says, giving Fujita a high five (which he misses initially). “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Kane-chan! Wait for me!” Miyagi runs after her as she starts her way to the Grand Hall.

After looking around at each other and shrugging, the rest of the group follows the two of them to the building. Tall, imposing; and much like the rest of the scenery, dull and grey. A white banner hangs from in front, carrying the school logo and the words, “Welcome, Hope’s Peak Students!” So was it an official, then? It seems we’ll soon find out.

We walk into the hangar and some overhead lights flash on automatically. Just as Fujita said, the room is completely empty, aside from a broken plane and a podium on the platform at the back.

Okuda scans the room, counting heads to make sure everyone is present. Once she’s done, she addresses us all. “Alright! So, now that we’re here, we can…,” she struggles to find the words to finish with, but before she can decide, a familiar voice resounds throughout the room.

“ _Helloooooooooo_ , everybody! Thank you all for waiting! Let me welcome you all to Hope’s Peak Academy’s Orientation Day! ...Or at least, that’s what I would say.” Before anyone can react, a stuffed bear bounces out from behind the podium and sits limply on top of it. It doesn’t look normal at all: divided down the middle with a monochrome palette, with a jagged red eye on one side.

Kimura walks forward to get a closer look and frowns. “A bear plushie? But… it’s so _ugly_ looking. I’d never let something like that come out of my toyshop.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, ya bastard,” the bear replies. “I’m more than just some stitched-up cloth and stuffing!” At that, he stands up and laughs. “Upupupupu! And I’m sure _all_ of you are very surprised to meet your new headmaster!”

Yamamoto’s voice is shakey. “Is that thing seriously talking to us…?”

Akemiyama is the first to address the big question. “Headmaster? You mean that bear is our _headmaster_?”

“Hell no! It’s, like, the school mascot or something.” Kurosawa scowls, glaring hard at the bear.

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m not an ‘it’; I’m a ‘he’! I would have expected you to refer to me with my preferred pronouns!” He straightens himself up, before projecting his voice to reach us all. “My name is Monokuma! And I’m the mascot of more than just the school, ya know.” The bear dances around on the podium before leaping off, landing on the floor in front of the platform. “You see, all of you bastards have been brought to Hope’s Peak Academy’s Detention Facility for breaking important rules! You’re all gonna spend the rest of your pathetic lives here, under _my_ control!”

“Wh-what!?” Hisakawa cries out. “No! I can’t have detention!” It’s… good to know she has her priorities in order…

“That’s what you’re worried about!?” Kris yells back at her. “He just said we’re trapped here!”

Yoshida pushes his way through the crowd, moving in to stand his ground in front of Monokuma. “Hey, you! Monokimono, o-or whatever you call yourself! What the hell’s your deal!? We haven’t even been to the school yet, so how could we have broken any rules!?”

“Upupupu,” he laughs, “do you really not understand? I don’t mean school rules. I mean world rules! Laws! Y’all are criminals, and I’m the sheriff keeping you behind bars! The horrors you sixteen bozos have wreaked onto this plane of existence is despairingly overwhelming! So that’s where I come in to take _care_  of you bastards!”

“Really, now?” Narita remarks, clearly unamused. “You say all of us have committed serious crimes? That’s a laugh.”

“Y-yeah!” Miyagi shouts, but he’s visibly shaking. “Ha, ha, _ha_!”

“But it’s _true_! So true! Cross my heart and hope to die a horribly messy death! Every single one of you has committed a great and horrible crime at some point, and now you’re paying the price with your lives!”

“W-with our lives!?” Tsukino’s voice startles me, as she had remained silent for the majority of the discussion.

“Didn’t I tell you? In Hope’s Peak Academy’s Detention Facility, the top recreational activity is The Game of Mutual Killing!”

There is a brief silence before Koga calmly says, “I don’t understand.”

“I’d at least expect you to get it, Rambo! It’s a game! And you kill each other! The Game of Mutual Killing! Geez, I thought the schools in Japan taught this stuff.” He spares Kris a look. “Or, well, you know.”

“You mean like Battle Royale? It’s a great movie and all, but a joke like that won’t work…”

Miyagi looks pale. “Fuji-chan, I know jokes. I don’t think he’s making one…”

“That’s right! I mean serious business!” Monokuma brushes past Yoshida (who’s practically frozen in place), making his way towards the rest of the group. “All you gotta do is kill someone! Doesn’t matter how you do it as long as the victim is as dead as Latin! Stabbing, bludgeoning, strangling, shooting, poisoning, drowning, crushing, dismembering, burning… the possibilities are endless!”

Whispers and cries of fear wander through the crowd before Okuda steps forward. “And how, exactly, do you expect to make us do that? You’re a dictator with no power. There’s no way any of us would kill each other.”

“Oh, I have my ways, Ms. Midriff. Murderers just need a little incentive. I’ll be handing out little motives every once in a while to make you give in to killing. But even then, there’s the supreme motive itself! _Freedom_!” He turns around and makes his way back to the podium. “That’s right. Your reward for killing off one of your pals is a ticket out the door! Or, in this instance, the electric gate.”

Kris scratches at his neck. “So… What you are saying, Herr Kuma, is if one kills someone, they can leave? Sin’s temptation rewarded by passage from the gates of hell?”

Monokuma doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course it isn’t _that_ simple, you Catholic shtick. Don’t get too excited about making chum out of your chums. Besides, you’re a man of the cloth. _Thou shalt not kill?_ ”

Kris glares back at him. “I was speaking purely in the hypothetical, you ignorant _Scheisse_!”

Monokuma dances around on the podium before continuing where he left off. “You see, after each and every murder, we will hold a wonderful class trial in able to find out which one of you bastards killed off the other!”

“A class… trial?” Nishi echoes, frowning as she tugs on the hem of her skirt. “That… that just sounds morbidly lame.”

“Au contraire, mon amie! The class trial is the most exciting part of the game, and your chance to identify the killer! Or at least, I find it exciting. The rules are simple: if you all guess the killer correctly based on whatever evidence they sloppily forgot to cover up, I’ll punish them in any way I desire. But if you bastards guess incorrectly, the entire prison gets punished and the killer walks free!”

My blood runs cold. “What… what exactly do you mean by ‘punish’?”

“Oh, you know, just your garden variety breed of _despair-inducing executions_! Actually, on second thought, they’re not of garden variety at all! They’re more like a wild exotic safari exploration of gore and death! Too long, didn’t listen: if you kill someone and get away with it, you get to walk home free, but at the expense of your fellow classmates’ lives! But if you get caught, I’m gonna make sure I squeeze every ounce of fear I can out of you before you die!”

“No, that can’t be right! You can’t just do this to us!” Kaneko looks furious, but her voice gives away weakness.

“But I did, I am, and I will continue to do so! I’m your headmaster, Monokuma. You broke the rules, so now you have to follow mine!” He looks around, taking in our shocked and confused expressions before I respond.

“Why are you putting us through all of this!? Stop this already!”

The bear sits idle before cocking his head. “Why am I doing this? _Why?_ Do you _reeeaaally_ wanna know?” His red eye glows bright as he gives us his answer.

“For the sake of despair.”

A cold chill sweeps down my body and I feel myself grow weak. None of this makes any sense.

Jumping out of his cold glare, Monokuma returns to his eerily cheerful self. “Oh! Oh oh _oh_! Before I forget, I might as well pass out your eHandbooks, your personal survival guides to the game of mutual killing! Don’t lose or break yours, because I can’t replace them!” Monokuma clicks a remote and a cart full of tablets rises from a trapdoor on his platform. “Come and get ‘em while they’re hot! Take one, sign in, and then go back to bed! It’s late and I need my _beauty_ sleep!” And with that, the bear does a backflip behind the podium and disappears, leaving everyone behind with expressions of shock and fear.

Nishi is the first to speak, her pretty face crumpled into a grimace. “This… this is nuts! Completely bullshit!”

“Get back here, you rat!” Narita cries, pushing past Yoshida to move towards the podium.

Yoshida reaches forward, catching his arm before he can get any closer. “Dude. It’s not worth it.”

“I knew it, I _knew_ it!” Akemiyama is muttering, scratching at his head with unbridled fervor. “I knew something was wrong here! I don’t want that bear to _kill_ me!”

“Don’t any of you get it!?” Kimura, who had been grimacing for most of Monokuma’s speech, was now speaking to us all. “Don’t you understand that bastard has nothing to do with the true danger?”

Yoshida yells out to him. “Wh-what the hell d-do you mean he has nothing to do with it!? That bear’s a f-fucking psychopath!”

“Quiet, Mushroom Boy. There’s much more danger than just _him_.”

“M-Mushroom Boy!?” Yoshida is taken back and stumbles a bit.

Kimura walks forward and climbs onto the platform, slipping a bit at first, before getting up at looking back at all of us. “I doubt that bastard is out to kill anyone here. In fact, I suspect he’s the last individual who would kill.”

Koga raises his gun and aims at Kimura. “Sense. Make it.”

He laughs and points back at him. “That’s exactly what I mean, Koga. The most dangerous factor of our new life isn’t some stuffed animal. It’s _each other_.”

Koga looks down at his gun and lowers it, suddenly becoming aware of the gazes aimed at him.

“Just like Koga demonstrated, any one of us has the potential to kill another classmate! A possible killer could be anyone of us!” Kimura’s smirk fades away and he looks out to us all. “Be careful who you trust. You may lose your life.”

The crowd exchanges glances, realizing the truth to his words. Any one of us could be killed off, and at any moment…

_ _ _

The elevator moves upwards slowly. I can sense the fear and worry in the other girls’ eyes. Apparently the boys’ rooms are on the floor below the girls’, so they’re already gone.

After Kimura’s speech, most of us went back to our rooms. Hisakawa broke down—a crumbling mess of wailing and runny makeup—so Okuda and Kurosawa stayed behind with her. Yoshida bolted out of the hall before I had the chance to speak to him, and everyone else dragged themselves back to the hotel in hopes of waking up from this nightmare. But as I see the terror etched into the faces of the other girls on the elevator, I realize this couldn’t be any kind of dream.

The doors shudder open and I quickly walk ahead of Tsukino, Nishi, and the others. I just want to leave this god awful prison! I want to go home and see my family again!

I run into the room marked with my name, throwing myself onto the bed. I scream into the pillow. Again. I punch the mattress. Scream again. More mattress punching. After what seems like ages, I roll over and stare at the rotating ceiling fan. I can taste the salt from my tears and my nose is so stuffed I can’t even smell the molding walls of the room.

Why did this have to happen? And why me? I don’t deserve to be here. I’ve never committed any crime. I didn’t do anything wrong! This whole place must be crazy!

And so I sit there, looking up, contemplating what’s happened. I think about how it can’t be possible. I keep on denying the fact that I’m anywhere but home. I’m perfectly fine and there are no bears out to get me.

And then, with my mind tired of thinking, I pass out from exhaustion.

_ _ _

_Monokuma Theatre_

_Oh goody! Looks like we got a big audience! I’m so excited I could die! Welcome to the opening act of the game of mutual killing! As the show’s director, I’d love to give a few words, as is with all opening acts. You see, the start of a show is incredibly important. It establishes characters, the setting, and sets the plot off on its path to utter destruction and despair!_

_I bet you all already have a favorite character by now! You bastards usually do, anyway. Too bad all the passengers on this plane are going down because this pilot is incapacated… incapated… incapaciated... incapacitated!? Whatever, you get the point. This opening act has taken a dark turn and everyone is going to die!_

_So get seated, turn off your cell phones, and remember the bathrooms are down the hall to your left! You won’t find any exits in this theatre, so hope nothing goes wrong, because it’s **showtime!**_

****PROLOGUE - WELCOME TO DESPAIR DETENTION - END** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining us! The next chapter is going to include a lot of exploration, and introduce a somewhat interactive aspect of this story. HOPE to see you soon, and please remember that both writers track the tag "dangan ronpa negative" on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 1, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back to gay baby jail.
> 
> This chapter has been a long time coming, and it's a fun one, so we hope you enjoy it. Also, please stay tuned for some special announcements at the end!
> 
> Triggers for this chapter: mild animal abuse, accidental misgendering (sort of??), slut shaming, nervous breakdowns, and homophobia (guess who).

**CHAPTER 01 - PRISON BREAK (Daily Life)**

“Maro, stop…,” I mutter. I feel my cat walking on my bed, kneading the sheets, trying to wake me up. He knows it’s the first day I go to Hope’s Peak; I had been so excited about it for weeks and wouldn’t stop talking about it while he laid on my lap or played with his toys. But now, after that nightmare, I’m not sure if I want to risk actually going to school.

I feel Maro walking along my back, sniffing me. Somewhat louder than normal. And he seems lighter, too. I slowly shift myself in the bed and sit up—and I immediately scream and jump out of bed.

An ugly filthy rat had gotten into my room and had been laying on my bed with me! I grab the nearest object—a small Monokuma statue—and throw it at the rodent. It shrieks and runs off the bed and into a hole behind the desk.

The lights in my room flash on and I shield my eyes. The TV monitor across from my bed activates, albeit with some static, and Monokuma appears on screen.

_“Bzzt! Bzzt! Hello? Bzzt! Ah! It’s working! Good morning, inmates! It is now 7 AM. Rise and shine and get ready for another beautiful day here at Hope’s Peak Academy’s Detention Facility!”_

The video shuts off and I’m once again alone in the filthy dorm. I guess I never left the nightmare at all.

The eHandbook pings loudly and I walk over to check it, wary of any other rats that might be hiding in my room. The screen reads _“Update: New Rules.”_ I tap it to proceed.

_“1. Students are confined within the detention center._

_“2. Between 10 PM and 7 AM is Night Time. You may leave your rooms during this hour, but several areas will be restricted until Night Time is over._

_“3. You may investigate the detention center’s grounds to your hearts’ content!_

_“4. No violence against Headmaster Monokuma will be permitted. This includes destruction of security cameras._

_“5. If you kill another student and get away with it, you will be released from Hope’s Peak Academy’s Detention Facility, while the remaining students will be punished accordingly._

_“6. If you kill another student and are discovered, you will be punished, and the rest of the students will continue to enjoy their detention-filled lives._

_“7. New rules may be added at any time.”_

Is this… really the way my life is going to be from now on? Killing… being killed… it all sounds so ridiculous; almost like a crimson-coated nightmare. But we still have a chance of escape. There has to be some way out of this place. We just have to look for it.

With a new sense of determination, I leap out of bed and swing open the door of my closet. Fortunately, the luggage I brought with me to Hope’s Peak was being stored in my room. Some things were missing—my phone, for instance—but all of the clothes I packed were in the closet, just as they should be. I pull on some clothes, put on my shoes, finish it off with a hairclip, and head out the do—

“Shit! Fucking shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_!” Yoshida begins hopping around in the hall outside my door, holding his foot up. I guess when I opened the door, he was standing right in front of it. The door must have stubbed his toe. But if that’s so, then why was he even there in the first place?

“Dammit, Saito, you need to be more careful!” he shouts at me, and I can see tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Was it really that bad, or does he just have low pain tolerance?

“Sorry!” I reply, watching as he rubs his eyes against the sleeve of his sports jacket. “Are… are you okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he insists, but he turns his face away so I can’t see his expression.

“Okay… good.” I’m at a loss for words, and although I am wondering what he’s doing at my door so early, I’m reminded of something else instead. “Hey… what was with you suddenly running off yesterday? I couldn’t say a word to you before you ran away!”

He shrugs, keeping his arms close to his body. “What is there to explain? Some fuckin’... _bear_ shows up and tells us to start killing each other…,” he runs his hand through his hair, and it stands out against the bright orange. “The hell was I supposed to do?”

He… has a point. I guess there’s really no reason to be upset with him. After all, I was pretty shocked as well… I just wanted someone to talk to, and he’s the only person here I know, even if he’s done bad things to me in the past. He’s a consistent, something here that feels familiar. That can’t be entirely bad.

Is… that the way he feels about me? Is that why he’s here? To talk to me after what happened yesterday? I narrow my eyes at him, trying to study his tight, closed-off posture. “Why are you here, anyways?”

Yoshida stops short, looking rather startled at my question. It seems like a perfectly normal thing to ask, but his shoulders are up near his ears and he’s staring straight down at his feet. I can hardly see his face, but I can see that the tips of his ears are red. Did I embarrass him somehow? “Okuda came to my room this morning. She said we’re splitting up to look around and find a way out today. She forced me to go find a partner, and you’re the only person here I know, so—”

From the end of the hallway, I can hear Okuda shout, “Rise and _shine_ , Kurosawa! We have things to do!” accompanied with a hammer-like sound; the sound of her fist pounding against Kurosawa’s door. I don’t hear anything from the other side, but I can imagine Kurosawa hastily kicking her sheets off and stomping to the door.

“So, uh,” I start, wondering if he feels as awkward as I do. “Partners?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Totally.”

I take a few steps towards the elevator, but before I can even press the button, the doors shoot open. Kris is standing inside, and he storms past us without even acknowledging our presences. He’s not wearing his white robes today; instead he has on a sweater over a white collared shirt and khakis. He would probably look nice if he didn’t look so angry.He stops for a second, scanning the hallway until he catches sight of Okuda’s bright ponytail. She’s still banging on Kurosawa’s door, to little avail, and it doesn’t seem like Kris plans on helping. “Frau Okuda!”

Yoshida grabs my wrist, dragging me into the elevator before I can hear any more. Swiftly, he hits one of the buttons, and the doors close before I can ask any questions. “He’s probably pissed that none of the guys wanted to pair up with him.”

I raise an eyebrow. I knew I didn’t like him, and I expected Narita as well, but _everyone_? “None of them?”

Yoshida scowls, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his basketball shorts. “Of course,” he says, and I can almost swear I heard him mutter, “Fucking bigot.” He looks straight at me now, with a fierce sort of look in his eyes. “I’ve had to deal with fuckers like him before, and I don’t ever wanna go through it again. Stay clear of him, Saito. Got it?”

“Was already planning on it.”

He gives me a grin just as the elevator doors slide open again. I take a step out into the lobby, Yoshida following closely behind. “So, where are we headed off to?” he asks, already surveying the room we’re in.

“I thought you knew that,” I reply, continuing forward.

He gives me an odd look. “Why would _I_ know?”

“You were the one who asked me to come with you!”

“Fair enough,” he says, right as we push open the front doors. As soon as we’re out in the courtyard, he turns his head left and right, trying to find a suitable place for exploration. “Okuda said to spread ourselves out, so…” Hesitantly, he raises his hand before pointing to a small building on the far end of the courtyard. “How about over there?”

When Okuda said to spread out, she probably meant that one pair should be focused on a specific area, so that we can cover all of the bases. “As long as no one else is in there, right?”

Yoshida’s face is turned away from me, towards our destination, but the tips of his ears are red again. “Yeah. Of course.”

As we cross the courtyard, I notice Fujita and Yamamoto walking around together. They both seem very focused on searching, although Fujita appears to be trying to start up a conversation, albeit one-sided.

“Well… this is the building.” Yoshida stumbles over to the front of the small hangar, looking for something other than the large garage door to use as an entrance. While he feels the wall aimlessly, I notice a small panel next to the door.

“Maybe this is it?” I say as I flip a switch and the garage door panels start moving up and opening, revealing a small warehouse area full of wooden crates and cardboard boxes. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs drape the walls. I sneeze and turn away back to Yoshida.

He takes a couple steps into the warehouse and pouts. “God dammit. It’s dirty as hell in there. And there’s nothing except these boxes!” Taking a couple more steps, he takes a swift kick at one of the cardboard containers.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, fucking _shit_!” I have a small bout of deja vu before I remember he did the exact same thing this morning when I stubbed his toe with my door. I guess he just doesn’t learn.

Dusting off one of the boxes, I notice that there’s no tags or stickers whatsoever that could tell what’s inside, except for a Monokuma logo sealing the box closed. I peel it back, open the cardboard flaps, and pull out a… ballerina tutu? Looking through the box, I just find more similar items. Slippers, ribbons, even a plastic bouquet. Did Monokuma put this here for Hisakawa? She is the Super High School Level Ballet Dancer, after all. “Hey, Yoshida, take a look.”

The orange-haired cyclist peers into the contents of the box, squinting his eyes. “Looks like a buncha dumb girly stuff. Why’s that in a place like this?”

Before I could think about scolding him, he wanders over to another box and opens it up. “Hey, this one’s full of books. Old ones.” He picks one up and dusts off the cover. “This one’s from the 1870’s!”

I open the next box in the pile and find piles of stuffed animals inside. The next box contains paint supplies. Make-up. Cameras and film. Poms-poms. It seems each box is filled with supplies pertaining to each of our talents.

Taking off the sticker for the next box, I’m surprised to find it… empty. There’s absolutely nothing inside whatsoever. I call Yoshida over to take a closer look.

"I dunno. It’s probably just yours.”

I doubt Fujita and Yamamoto heard me slap him.

_ _ _

There’s still a red mark on Yoshida’s face by the time we reach the mess hall. Apparently Okuda wanted us to meet there at nine. “Seriously, Yoshida,” I say, trying to properly collect myself. “I’m so sorry. I was reacting on instinct and I’ll try not to do it again. I just get really caught up in my feelings and—”

“No worries,” Yoshida says, reaching over to rub his sore cheek, but pulling his hand away once he remembers how sensitive the skin is. “I probably deserved it anyways. Payback for all of those years.”

I try to figure out what to say, but my train of thought screeches to a halt when I turn to see what’s in front of me. Some distance away, there’s a pigtailed girl talking to Miyagi. The only girl here with pigtails _that_ big is Kurosawa… and even then, she’s blonde. This girl’s hair is _black_ , with green highlights. I rush over to her, wondering why that seems so familiar as I reach he—

“Ah, Saito. Did you find anything of interest?” Kimura smiles at me between two black-and-green sections of his hair, held up with little panda hair ties. I’m somewhat startled by this; just yesterday he gave a dark speech about distrust and fear. I didn’t expect someone like him to wear pigtails, let alone use cute animal clips.

“Yeah, actually,” I say as I point out the door across the courtyard, “There’s a warehouse over there full of boxes. It seems like each box has stuff in it that relates to our talents.” We hadn't had enough time to look through _all_ the boxes, but I gave it a good guess that the rest of them more than likely followed the pattern.

“There were also some wooden crates, too. We didn’t open those, though.” Yoshida says with a shrug. “Not enough time.” He looks around. “Where’re the others?”

“They should be here soon,” says Miyagi, sitting at one of the tables. This whole place looks like a school cafeteria. “Kimu-chan and I were already searching here, so we didn’t have to budge an inch!”

Behind us, I hear the doors burst open. Fujita and Yamamoto are the first to enter, although it doesn’t seem like either of them have much to say. Miyagi looks ready to welcome them, but it seems like a whole group of people are making their way in. With so many people, it’s hard to tell who’s paired with who. We all end up seated at the same table, and I look around, checking to see if everyone’s here.

“Hey,” Kaneko says, craning her head around to look behind her, “where’s Okuda-san?”

I think back to earlier this morning, realizing that someone else is missing from this picture. “I think she went with—”

The door slams open and two booming voices fill the room. “I’m not your fucking _mom_ , Kristoffer!”

“I _told_ you not to call me by that—”

"You can’t just—”

“Oh please, it’s perfectly safe—”

“It was from the top of a _watchtower_ —”

“I can handle myself, Oku—”

“We were thirty feet in the air, Kristoffer! You almost pulled me off the edge!”

“I would assume someone like you would _enjoy_ a bit of adventure.”

Okuda nearly screams, storming past Kris and taking a seat at the head of the table. “Sorry you had to see that,” she tells us, watching as Kris takes a seat at a table nearby. Is he distancing himself on purpose…? “Alright, now that we’re all here, we can all share what we’ve learned.” Okuda looks around for volunteers. “Who’d like to go first?”

Fujita’s hand shoots up, eager to go first. Yamamoto is sitting beside him, looking bored and much less excited to share their findings. Okuda calls on him and he nods, standing up to present.

“Although we didn’t find much about the actual _courtyard_ , Yamamoto-san and I did take account of all the buildings in this area. Of the places we all know, we have the hotel-like structure that we all woke up in, the mess hall we’re sitting in right now, the grand hall we visited yesterday, and the courtyard itself. However, there’s also a few warehouses around, most of them locked, and a watchtower.” He pauses to catch his breath and adjust his glasses, but before he can talk again, Yamamoto interrupts him.

“In other words, we didn’t find too much outside of basic observation. Fujita just thought an overview would be a good way to start off our discussion.” Fujita’s face falls as he sits back down and Yamamoto plugs in her earbuds, tuning out of the group discussion.

Okuda gives them a quick nods before pointing at Kurosawa across the room. “How about you? You barely got ready in time to go investigate. Why don’t you speak early in exchange for sleeping in late?”

Kurosawa clenches her teeth and starts to stand up, but Hisakawa puts her arm out in front, gesturing for her to sit down. “I’ll talk,” she says, before standing up in Kurosawa’s stead. “We looked around and investigated the dorms. The second and third floor of the hotel are separated by gender and we all have our own door keys.”

She makes a nervous glance towards Okuda, as if asking if she should continue. Okuda nods, making a “go on” motion with her hand. “Ah, well, we also checked to see if the rooms are soundproof, and it seems like they are. We couldn’t hear anything when yelling at each other from one side of the door to the other…” She takes a long pause, looking around for reactions. “So, um… I think that’s it.”

“What about the lobby?” Okuda asks, squinting slightly.

Hisakawa tenses, but Koga interrupts before she can say anything. “Tsukino-kojin and I took care of that.” Tsukino and Koga? I’m sure they’re a.... talkative pair.

Okuda pauses for a second before turning her attention over to Koga. “Okay. What did you learn?”

“There is a strange machine in there.”

“...I’m sorry. What?”

“It bares the face of the beast and it dispenses assorted goods.”

“I’m not following you.”

Koga looks down, seemingly having nothing left to say. Tsukino nervously says some inaudible words to him, but he doesn’t budge. Perhaps he’s just struggling to get his point across?

After a moment, Tsukino hesitantly picks up where Koga left off. “It… it’s called the M-Monomono Machine. It’s like a… a gumball machine… but evil.”

“Of course! Anything that shares a name with _that bastard_ is bound to be no good.” A small frown makes its way onto Kimura’s face while he plays with his hair. “Don’t expect anything nice to come from it.”

“Well,” Okuda begins, “how was your own exploration? You tackled the mess hall, right?”

“Mhm!” Miyagi nods and gives a big smile. “Kimu-chan and I looked all over to find everything there was! In the kitchen, there’s tons of snacks and goodies and stuff! And everything’s really fresh, too!”

“It’s as Miyagi says. If that bastard plans to keep us here forever, he’s definitely planning to make sure we don’t starve to death, surprisingly enough. The kitchen is also outfitted with an assortment of culinary tools, so cooking a nice dinner isn’t out of the question.” Kimura tells us, giving a small smile. “And then there’s the mess hall,” he gestures to the area around us, which looks akin to a regular high school cafeteria with all of its color drained out, “but I assume you’ve already been acquainted.”

“Of course,” Okuda replies, with a brief nod. “Alright, how about…,” she scans the table for volunteers, and her eyes land on Narita. “Narita. Where were you all of this time?”

Narita heaves a heavy sigh, as if he’s in for a long and unwanted explanation. “Well, I thought I’d take Akemiyama-kun into the Grand Hall, since it’s empty, but it turns out it was even _more_ empty than I thought it would be.” Okuda tries to get a word in, but Narita is already on a roll. “Now ordinarily that would have been great—less stuff to look at, after all—but it turns out Akemiyama-kun—”

“You really don’t need to be telling them this,” Akemiyama mutters, burying his face in his hands.

“Akemiyama-kun is straight,” Narita continues, unfettered by Akemiyama’s reaction.

“Okay…,” Okuda starts, drawing out the word. “Not what I asked, but let’s backtrack a little… What do you mean, more empty?”

“More empty? Oh… Oh yeah. But it’s not a big deal, right, Akemiyama-kun?”

“Narita-kun, the plane is missing! That’s a _huge_ deal!” Akemiyama frowns at him and looks over to Okuda. “We don’t know why it’s gone, but the old airplane from yesterday isn’t in the Grand Hall.”

A few whispers exchange among everyone and Yoshida taps my shoulder. “How is that even possible? Nobody could’ve moved something that heavy!”

I start to tell him that it probably wasn’t even one of us anyway, but I’m cut off as Okuda clears her throat to regain attention.

“I suppose that should be looked into later. But for now…” she looks over the remaining groups and sees Nishi and Kaneko, “what did you two find?”

Nishi gives a big stretch and yawns at the question. “We just looked around the perimeter of the prison. Like Koga-kun said yesterday, this dump is completely surrounded by electric fences, with the only exception being a couple locked gates. But even then, those just lead to more fenced-off areas.”

“I was thinking Monokuma will let us into those areas later!” Kaneko pipes in, leaning forward over the table. “Maybe as rewards?”

“Yeah, for killing each other,” I hear Yoshida mutter, leaning back in his chair.

Okuda glances at him, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. She looks like she’s about to say something, but then she thinks better of it and decides to share her own findings first. “I guess it’s about time I tell you where I was this whole time. As promised, I took Kris with me.” Around the table, I see the others nod in approval. “We visited the watchtower at the far end of the courtyard. We wanted to see if we could use it to get over the fence.” She turns to Kris, looking like she expects him to finish. He doesn’t.

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow, insisting that she continue on.

Okuda scoffs, but continues anyways. “We weren’t able to get inside the room at the top of the watchtower, but we have access to the balcony. The windows are all blocked off with shutters, so we have no way of knowing what’s inside.”

“And what about getting out?” Kaneko presses.

Okuda scowls. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like an option. The edge of the watchtower is too close to the gate. If we tried going down with a rope, we would get fried. And there’s no way we can make a platform off the edge. Even if the watchtower wasn’t made of steel, we wouldn’t be able to get all of the materials up the ladder.” Having finished her speech, she takes a breath before continuing. “Is anyone left?” Her gaze falls on me and I remember we haven’t actually told anyone besides Kimura and Miyagi about the warehouse.

“Oh! Yes! Yoshida and investigated one of the warehouses. We didn’t look through everything inside, but it was pretty full with boxes and crates. We opened a few of them and Yoshida and I think that each box contains items relating to our talents.”

Fujita’s ears perk up. “What? You mean… you found cameras I could use?”

“Yeah. Plenty of stuff for all of us. Like, for Kurosawa, for example,” Yoshida says, explaining to Okuda, “we found a box full of pom-poms and ribbons. I think there’s some old books in there for you, too, Okuda.”

Okuda starts to respond, but is cut off by Kris. “Books? What use would she have for books? Look at her!”

I could see Okuda had clearly lost it now. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You look, dress, and act like a brothel whore is what I’m saying, Frau Okuda!”

The room is permeated by a thick, intense silence. No one knows what to say or do.

Nishi is the first to speak. “Oh my _God_ ,” she whispers, and I can’t tell if she’s legitimately shocked or delightfully scandalized.

We all turn to look at Okuda now, awaiting her reaction. She’s absolutely steaming: red faced, grinding her teeth, eyes narrowed at Kris, heavy breathing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone get this angry.

Very carefully, Okuda clenches her fists, raises them to her chest level…

And lets out a deep breath. “Next time, one of you is taking him,” she says, voice still shaking with anger.

“I call not it,” Kurosawa mutters.

At the end of the table, I see Tsukino fidgeting with the hair in front of her eye. “Um… you said all of the boxes were filled with items pertaining to our talents… right?”

Yoshida nods. “Yeah, that’s it.”

She balks at this. “Did you really look inside… _all_ of the boxes?”

“What?” Yoshida starts, until he realizes how what he said could have been misinterpreted. “No, we didn’t have time to look through _all_ of them. We just, uh…”

“Made an educated guess from what we saw?” I finish.

“Yeah, that.”

Tsukino tugs on a chunk of her hair, looking tense. “So did you… find anything strange in any of the boxes?”

Yoshida raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I-I can’t tell you.” I suddenly notice that Tsukino is trembling. Badly.

“How’m I supposed to know what you’re talking about if you don’t tell me? This whole situation is weird, I can’t pick out just one thi—”

“I _said_ I can’t tell you!” All eyes are on Tsukino as she stands up, slamming her hands against the table.

Yoshida stumbles back in shock. “Whoa! Calm down, will ya?”

“Shut up! I’m _completely_ calm!” Tsukino’s eyes look wild, her face intense. She doesn’t seem at all like the girl I had talked to yesterday. Her eyes dart around the room, across everyone’s faces, and she steps back slowly. “Just… just shut up! All of you!” With that, she turns away and runs out of the hall.

There’s a tense pause as we stare at the mess hall’s doors, waiting for them to clamor shut. None of us know quite what to make of the situation at hand. Monokuma aside, none of us have ever seen Tsukino act like this before… at least, not that I know of. And all of this over the boxes in the storage room?

Maybe…

Is this about her talent? I thought she was just insecure, but… this could be a lot more serious than I expected.

Koga surprises us by being the first to break the silence. “Hanako-denka is lovely when she’s angry, isn’t she?” I think Tsukino was a lot more than just angry, but it’s hard for me to properly respond to what Koga’s just said. My train of thought short circuits before screeching to a halt.

“Did… did you just refer to her as _royalty_?” Fujita sputters, narrowing his eyes.

Koga only gives him a befuddled look in response. “She’s fitting of it, isn’t she?”

Fujita makes a face; almost a look of disgust. “I’d hardly think so.”

I see Koga flinch, but then he looks away as if nothing had happened.

“Um,” Okuda starts, and for a second I think she’s going to chase after her. But instead she looks back towards me. “Any closing statements?”

Beside me, I can see Yoshida racking his head for one last thought. “Um, well… To shorten it, the storage room was mostly full of boxes and crates filled with things that aren’t that important.”

From across the table, Narita leans forward to give Yoshida a grin. “Sounds interesting. You wouldn’t mind going _back_ and taking another look together, would you?” I can see Yoshida turn red, and it looks like he’s about to reply before Kris beats him to it.

“Ugh! That's disgusting, you _sohn von einem Weibchen_!” he cries, staying firmly put on his side of the room. On our side, I can see Narita recoil. “Attempting to seduce a straight man like that. People like you need to learn your rightful pla—”

“Hey.” A forceful voice takes over the room and it takes me a second to realize who it’s coming from. Yoshida has gotten up from his seat at the table, and the way he’s looking at Kris almost reminds me of the way he and his friends used to look at me in elementary school. But instead of being scary, there’s something comforting about it. Something protective and strong. “Will you shut your damn mouth for once? Because I really don’t want to hear it.”

Kris gives Yoshida a look of confusion. “What sort of problem could you have with it?”

Yoshida furrows his brow and yells back. “Well, first off, I’m not just gonna stand here and let you insult people like that! Narita can’t help who he is, and you shouldn’t be criticizing him for it.”

“But, he’s—”

“Besides, I like him just fine that way.” He’s rendered Kris speechless at this point, but I can tell he still has more to say. Regardless, he takes a moment to relish his victory before laying down the final blow. “And for the _record_ , he wasn’t hitting on a ‘straight man’. He was hitting on a bisexual one.”

There’s another heavy moment of silence, and I’m once again surprised by who breaks it. “Wow,” Yamamoto says, holding an earbud between two fingers. “Fucking _slay_.”

The others begin to voice their approval, and Kris reddens as he realizes what he’s gotten himself into. “F-fine! I don’t need to speak to any of you cretins anyway!” He turns around, storming out of the room before anyone can object (not that anyone would have).

Attention turned back to Okuda as she lets out a big sigh. “I’m glad thats over. It wasn’t fun, but we had to address the elephant in the room.”

“You mean the one on my sweater?” Miyagi beams.

Hisakawa, who had been silent for most of the arguments and chaos that followed the meeting, gives a light giggle. “In this case… I guess so!”

It isn’t much longer until Okuda dismisses us, and I see the room begin to clear out around me. I’m about to get up and leave with the others, but something catches my eye. Narita is making his way across the room with quick steps, eyes downcast. At first I think he’s just leaving, but that changes when I see him make a beeline for Yoshida, who’s leaving with everyone else. He grabs his wrist, making Yoshida stop in his tracks. They stare at each other for a few moments, and before I know it we’re the only people left in the room.

“Um—” Yoshida starts, obviously wanting to break the awkward silence, but he doesn't say anything when Narita leans over and kisses him on the cheek. For a second they don’t move… and then everything happens all at once.

Narita takes a step back, letting go of Yoshida as if he’d been burned. Even from here, I can see that his face is as pink as the stripe in his hair. “I, uh…!” he sputters, drawing his hands close to his chest. “I just wanted to say thank you!” He’s out of the room before Yoshida can say anything, looking more embarrassed than I could have ever pictured him being.

I approach Yoshida from behind, not entirely sure what to say to him. “So, uh. You and Narita, huh?”

I snap him out of his daze of speechlessness and he suddenly becomes alert. “S-Saito! It’s not what you think!” He raises his hands defensively, his face a blushing mess.

I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “Yoshida, it’s fine. I think it’s kind of cute.”

He seems dumbstruck for a moment before turning away, hiding his face again. “Y-yeah, whatever… I’ll see ya around.” And then, he’s gone.

_ _ _

I head back to my room to decide what to do next. We may be free to do as we please for the most part, but we’re still trapped here in this prison. I suppose I could go talk to the others, but who? I ponder this question a little longer before I open the door to my room… and find a horrid sight.

“Ehhhh? Saito-san! You’re here now!” The bear slips off of my bed, grinning brightly. “I was waiting for you. You see, I’ve got something to tell you.” As much as I want to shut the door right now and completely escape this monster, I don’t think he’ll let me do so.

Monokuma walks over to me, carrying my eHandbook over. “I wanted to warn you about a vicious technology hater going around. One of your fellow students completely destroyed their eHandbook and I’m afraid they might try to break the rest of them! Those things are expensive, you know!”

Someone broke their eHandbook? I wasn’t too surprised. They seem a lot like the art tablet I used to have; it broke last year when Maro knocked water all over it. I wouldn’t be too surprised if someone broke their eHandbook on accident.

“Anyway, be careful with that thing, alright! I can’t have you committing crimes while you’re already serving time! Geez!” With that, he hands me back my eHandbook and walks away, out of my room.

What do I do now? I look around my room, hoping to find something of interest, but nothing seems to catch my eye. Maybe I should take a look outside…

The others should be out there too, right? It’s not like there’s anything interesting inside of our dorms. I should get to know everyone better. We just met, after all.

With an even stronger sense of determination than before, I turn the doorknob and step out into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for...! Free time events!
> 
> The two of us have started up an official Dangan Ronpa Negative blog on tumblr, which is where you guys can cast your votes. The url is dangan-negative. You may vote as many times and for as many characters as you'd like, but please no spamming.
> 
> Voting will end on February 24th, so please, tell your friends!
> 
> There's also lots of other fun stuff going on over on the blog, so check it out regardless.
> 
> HOPEfully the next chapter will up a little quicker, due to the simple nature of freetime chapters.


	4. Chapter 1, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, for our first freetime chapter! We had 19 votes cast, and the winners will be revealed this chapter. I hope next time we'll get even more voters!
> 
> Triggers for this chapter: homophobia, falling from heights.

The hallway is empty, so I make my way to the elevator first. I get a sense of deja-vu when the doors open after I press the button, revealing Kris inside. He stares at me up and down with a sort of grimace. I suddenly feel very vulnerable. Is this was silent judgement is like? “Can I… help you?” I ask, hardly sure of how I should word such a phrase.

Kris turns his head to one side, regarding me only with a look of disgust. “This damn thing was supposed to bring me to the bottom floor. I suppose it decided to curse me with bringing one of _your_ kind onboard with me.”

“ _My_ kind!?” I echo, feeling the words pass my lips with venom, but he drowns me out.

“No matter. If this is God’s will, then so be it. I have no right to argue with His decisions. Just know that I don’t plan on associating with you.”

Shaking with anger, I step inside and punch the button that shuts the doors, trapping me inside with him. Is this because of my sexuality? Did Narita tell him, or did he figure it out himself? The doors slide open before I can figure out the answer, and as Kris hurries out I decide it doesn’t matter. There are more important things to worry about in our situation. And what do I care if he doesn’t want to talk to me? There’s no reason I’d ever want to talk to him. No one could ever convince me otherwise.

As I step out into the lobby, I suddenly realize I have no idea where I’m going. Then again, I came out here to talk to people, so I guess it makes sense to talk to the first person who catches my eye.

In the quiet of the desolate room, I hear quiet footsteps behind me and it doesn’t take me long to realize who it might be. I feel a pair of gloved hands cover my eyes, and I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Guess who?”

“Hmm… I guess...  Kimura,” I reply, adding in just enough sarcasm to tease him with.

“Aha! You got me!” Kimura lets go and whirls around to face me. He’s still got his pigtails from earlier and they bounce when he moves. “How could you possibly have gotten that right on your first try, Saito?”

“You did a similar thing yesterday. Who else would it be?”

“You have a point there.” Kimura gives a quick smile before briefly glancing over to the door to the quad. “Let’s walk.” ****

We step out and return to the courtyard. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to adjust myself to an environment like this. The sky has barely changed at all since yesterday, keeping its dull grey. It’s going to be difficult keeping my head up, but I’m sure I can do it. I hope.

Possibly sensing my trip into gloominess, Kimura starts the conversation back up. “I checked my box in the warehouse after that meeting. Sure enough, it was filled with stuffed animals. Toys everywhere. Nothing else. Too bad there wasn’t a sewing kit, though.”

“What for?”

He gives me a look, but his smile doesn’t fade. “It’s obvious, right? Sewing!”

“I know that, but sewing what? You said there’s only stuffed animals in the box. You’re not gonna tear apart the plushies for spare cloth, are you?”

He hesitates, tightening his pigtails before answering me. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Kimura!”

“Oh, calm down. It’s no big deal. Besides, it’s how I got started with making toys.” He smiles a little, staring off into the cloudy sky. “There’s not many supplies for toys back in Usuki, so I had to salvage what I could if I wanted to make stuffed animals. That included taking bits and pieces from other plushies, too. In fact, the first toy I made—one of my favorites—was made from parts of a raccoon and a wolf. I would have brought it with me to the school, but the stitches are coming undone and I didn’t want to risk it falling apart.”

“That’s…," I search for the right phrase, "an odd start, I guess. But why did you start making toys in the first place?”

He gives me a confused look in return. “Huh?”

“If you had to take a bunch of parts just to make something new, then it seems a little impractical, right?”

After a pause, Kimura shrugs and nonchalantly says, “You have a point there.”

“...Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me?”

He shrugs. “Maybe later. I’m meeting up with Miyagi in a bit.” He starts to walk up, but stops and calls to me over his shoulder. “Oh! And you should probably check up on Yoshida later. There’s no telling what trouble he might stir up.”

Cold energy shoots through my stomach. “What do you mean? Did he go after Kris again?”

“Nah, nothing like that. He just found a collapsible bike in his storage crate, that’s all. I’m not really sure how those thingies work and I really hope it doesn’t break.” He shudders a little. “Bikes always just give me that weird feeling of impending doom, ya know?”

“...I don’t really get what you’re saying.”

He laughs. “Neither do I, really! But just... check up on him. I’ll see you around, Saito!” He raises his arm in the air to wave at me while he runs off, and wave back almost absentmindedly.

Is Yoshida really getting himself into some kind of trouble? Then again, it’s just a bike. Yoshida probably just wants to use it. He is the Super High School Level Cyclist, after all. Even if we’re trapped in this school, it’s probably a good idea to get some practice in.

...Even so, I should probably check on him. Just in case. Besides, maybe it’ll be a good way to kill some time. I didn’t see him around the courtyard when I was talking to Kumori, so I figure going to his room is my best bet.

I turn back to the hotel and swing the doors open, darting inside. I’m inside the elevator much sooner than I thought I’d be and the quiet as I move upwards, even if it’s just one floor, is absolutely unnerving. Am I really that worried about him? He’s probably fine, anyways. A collapsible bike is nothing to worry about, even if it made Kumori shiver a little. He’s lived in a remote village his entire life; I’m surprised he was even able to identify a collapsible bike in the first place.

There’s a long, tense moment of silence, and all I can do is stand in front of the door and wait. Is he even inside? Maybe he’s asleep… Or can he even hear the knocking? The rooms are soundproof and I’m definitely not pretending to know how that works. I knock again, just to make sure. “C’mon, c’mon… Open _up_ …!” I find myself muttering. I know he’s probably fine, but part of me insists on worrying despite that.

A few feet to my right, a light yet masculine voice cuts through my inner panic. “Saito-san?”

I nearly shriek, my hands flying away from the door, ending up held close to my chest. At the same time, I turn on my heel to face the voice and I’m rewarded with an eyeful of pastel clothing. Akemiyama. Of course. He must have been coming out of his room while I was banging on Yoshida’s door. “Oh,” I start, trying my hardest to put on a natural stance, “Hi, Akemiyama.”

“Hey…,” he replies, looking warily between me and the door. I try my hardest not to look back at it, thinking that will only make him more suspicious. “Uh… is there something you need from Yoshida-kun?”

I press my lips together, trying to think of a response that sounds moderately nonchalant. “Sort of,” is what I croak out, and I can hear my voice crack from how hoarse it is. I feel my eyes burn and I break eye contact, staring down at my shoes. I’m not… I’m not going to cry, am I?

“Saito-san?” he repeats, and it’s then that I feel my shoulders involuntarily hunch and my eyes well up with tears.

I repeat the whole story to Akemiyama as best as I can while he wraps his arms around me, letting me cry into his shoulder for a bit. However my best is little more than a blubbering mess, so it’s not until Akemiyama escorts me into his room that I’m able to tell him what happened.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” he says, but I can tell by the way he’s busying himself (browsing through a drawer, his hands trembling) that he’s just as worried as I am. “He’s probably just…,” He stops short there, and it’s only then that I realize Akemiyama is worried for a much different reason than I am.

I don’t want to consider it, but… Yoshida could be planning to murder someone. I try to tell myself that it doesn’t make any sense; you can’t use a bike to murder someone; but the thought is still there.

I swallow the hard lump forming in my throat, but it only makes my mouth feel dry. I’ve been telling myself Yoshida was someone I could trust, simply because he’s familiar… But what if I’m wrong? **  
**

“Here,” Akemiyama says, and I flinch as a makeup brush is pointed straight at my face. I’d nearly forgotten he was here. He retracts his hand, holding the foundation brush closer to himself. “I-I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” he gives me a smile, glossed with strawberry pink lip gloss. My eyes rest on the pink streaks in his blond hair and I take a deep breath to calm myself.

He smells like watermelon candy, just like he did on the first day, and I wonder how much of this sugar-coated appearance is real and how much is just saccharine.

“No, it’s fine,” I say, and he gives me a relieved smile before touching the foundation brush to my face. There’s a few tense, silent moments where Akemiyama just touches up my face with foundation, but he’s moving slower than I would have expected and his hands are still shaking. He’s still thinking about Yoshida, and to be completely honest, so am I. “Um…,” I start, hoping I can whip up something that will take our minds off of it, “so how did you get started doing makeup, Akemiyama?”

The brush on my face pauses for a moment, and Akemiyama looks at me with curious eyes. “My aunt,” he tells me, and he goes back to brushing foundation on my chin as if he hadn’t ever stopped. “She’s a theater director. She needed someone to do makeup, and I was the first person to go to.”

I want to quirk an eyebrow at this, but I’m not sure if it’ll disrupt what he’s doing. “The first?”

He swallows. “The two of us are, uh, close,” he explains, but he’s pretty clearly not telling me the whole truth. He continues pretty quickly, maybe to make sure I don’t interrupt. “I just did it because I didn’t have anything to do during the winter, but,” he smiles, and I can see his grip on the foundation brush relax considerably, “I ended up loving it. I always really admired art, but I could never come up with ideas for drawings or anything. I’m not very creative.”

I want to say something; to tell him he really is, but he continues before I can again. It’s almost as if he’s going on auto-pilot, and words are just falling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “But makeup is like art on your face,” he tells me, “a-and the face is like a guideline. I had a much easier time with it.”

He backs away from my face at last, seeming content with his work. It isn’t until I glance at his makeup table that I realize he had been switching between different brushes and products. I guess I was much more caught up in his story than I thought.

“There,” he says, taking a step back to get a good look at me. “Done!” He slides out of the way, finally letting me see what I look like in the mirror. He’s done a good job covering up the red blotches on my face, and I have no idea how he made my eyes look so much less puffy. When I don’t say anything, he grabs my attention again. “Do you…,” he swallows, pushing some hair out of his face, “feel any better?”

“Yeah,” I say, giving him a smile. “Thank you.”

He smiles back, even if it’s plain to see how tense he is. “Any time.”

All too suddenly, the sound of a knock on the door shatters the atmosphere. And then another knock. And another. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure it out: this isn’t casual knocking. Someone is _banging_ their fist against the door.

I rise from my seat, but Akemiyama is already way ahead of me, nearly tripping over the bed in his rush to reach the door. He stumbles with the doorknob for a moment before finally ripping the door open. On the other side is Ryouta, his sweet, wide-eyed face twisted into a look of terror. That look alone… Just seeing that look makes my stomach take a deadly plunge.

“What’s wrong?” Akemiyama asks, but I hardly realize the words are coming out of his mouth. They reflect my thoughts exactly.

Miyagi’s panicked gaze bounces between both of us, before he’s finally able to force himself to speak: “I-it’s Yoshi-chan! He’s—”

For a split second; during Miyagi’s pause between words; I think he’s going to say it. A sour taste takes over my mouth, and I can’t help but wonder how it came to this. He was my _friend_ , wasn’t he?

And then I take a better look at Miyagi’s face, and I can only see worry and fear. No betrayal, no contempt. I can feel myself shake as I realize something even worse way have happened to my friend. Yoshida might be—

“—up on the watchtower!” and then time came racing back, and Miyagi was speaking breathlessly. “W-we think he might be trying to get out of the school!”

“Is he an idiot?” Akemiyama cries, but his feet are glued firmly in place. “There’s no way to get out from there without being electrocuted in smashing your skull on the concrete!”

I can hear Miyagi agree, and internally, I do too. Until I remember what Kimura had warned me about: the collapsible bicycle.

He wouldn’t.

But I don’t have time to stand around and judge Yoshida’s decision making skills. I’m out of the room in an instant, hardly noticing Akemiyama and Miyagi’s noises of surprise as I push past them.

I skip the elevator this time, choosing to rush down the stairs instead. I don’t think I could handle the tension of waiting or the feeling of slowly moving down. I can hear footsteps behind me, and a nagging thought in the back of my mind recognizes that it’s Miyagi and Akemiyama. They’re right behind me as I run through the lobby, kicking up dust as I push open the door and let myself out into the courtyard—

“Fellow students!”

I shield my eyes from the sunlight as I look up towards the source of the voice. Standing at the top of the watchtower, bike beside him and a cheap plastic megaphone in hand, is Yoshida, trembling and looking down on everyone. He had set up a ramp made up of parts from the boxes on the west side of the watchtower, the side near the electric fence. I try to recover my senses, bewildered by his reappearance after vanishing all day. What is he doing up there? What’s he thinking?

He stares directly at me at first, as if making sure I’m listening. Then he surveys us all down below to make sure he’s caught our attention, before continuing his shouting. “You see this ramp!?” He points wildly at it, desperate to make himself clear. “I’m n-not gonna stand for this dumb bear’s rules! There’s no stopping a ch-champion! I’m g-gonna use this bike and ramp to hop the fence and get out of this prison!”

He… can’t be serious, right? Landing a bike from that high up can’t possibly be safe. I knew he was going to get into trouble! I’ve got to stop him before it’s too late!

“N-now!” As he raises his hand to point at the fence, I realize just how nervously unprepared Yoshida looks for what he plans to do. “Once I g-get out of here, I’m going to find... s-someone! A-a-and then! Then, we’re g-gonna break you guys out!”

“Are you nuts!? Get down from there!” Okuda shouts back at him from below, trying to knock some sense into him. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“He’s going to fall, he’s going to fall, he’s going to fall, he’s going…” Hisakawa starts pacing backward in a state of panic.

“Yoshida-kojin. I advise against this.” Koga’s words aren’t nearly loud enough for Yoshida to hear, but even if he could, I don’t think he’d listen.

I rush over to the watchtower ladder and begin climbing. The rungs are rusty and cold, but it doesn’t stop my ascent. I’m not in the best shape to be climbing, but it’s a matter of life and death.

Death. Oh no... Yoshida might actually die. Here we are, trapped in a prison and forced into a game of murder, and Yoshida might die of his own stu—

“Okay! I’m… I’m gonna do it now!” I can’t see Yoshida from the ladder, but I feel the movement of the bike against the watchtower. He’s actually doing it! I’m too late!

I start to scream out to him, but I’m cut off by a sudden noise in the distance. My head whirls around in surprise as I hear the roaring engine of an airplane, soon supplemented by what sounds like a childish acappella of Flight of the Valkyries. The singer? Monokuma.

“Dun da da dun, dun da da dun, dun da da dun, dun da da! Alrighty, kiddos! As your warden, it’s my job to discipline you as I see fit!” Suddenly, the plane barrel rolls to the left and charges toward the watchtower. The click of the gatling guns dropping from the plane’s wings is inaudible, but the rampage of bullets is deafening.

Yoshida is quick to react; he’s not quick to think. In avoiding the bullet storm headed his way, he makes a brave and stupid decision. My face freezes in terror as he jumps from the tower, plummeting down towards the ground.

I reach out a hand to assist, hardly thinking of what little it will do. But Yoshida is far out of my reach, and I have to pull myself closer to the ladder when Monokuma’s shower of bullets draw near. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see him splatter as he hits the pavement.

But I look anyways; just in time to see Kurosawa, already in the middle of a running start, propel herself off of the ground. She launches forward, her body turning until her head nearly grazes the ground and her feet nearly touch the sky. That moment feels slow, and it looks almost as if both Kurosawa and Yoshida are falling. Then, as time shifts back to it’s proper pace, Kurosawa reaches down, placing her palms flat down on the concrete. She propels herself forward once more, landing on her feet, knees bent as she lands. A perfect flip. She holds her arms out just in time for Yoshida to land in them and we all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Nearby, the plastic megaphone hits the ground, bouncing against the pavement and landing again with a crack in its side.

I grip the cold, metal bars of the ladder and start hoisting myself down, overly aware of Kurosawa’s voice booming a good fifteen feet below. “What the hell is your problem?! You’re lucky I found out you got into my shit.” Kurosawa sets down a shell-shocked Yoshida on the stone floor of the courtyard, but he still hasn’t recovered. “Are you even listening to me?” Kurosawa’s head turns as I finish my descent. “I can’t understand this loser. Someone else take care of the baby!”

She starts walking away like she’s about to leave, but approaches the plastic megaphone instead, each step landing heavily on the concrete. She stares it down before putting her foot down on it _hard_ , and the rest of us can only watch as it shatters in two. Then she takes off, leaving the red and white mess behind her.

The rest of us are silent for a long moment, and I can see Yoshida begin to recoil from all of the stares on him as the shell-shock from falling wears off. No one knows what to say. There are so many reasons to be angry, but we all know that, given a few more days, any of us would have tried something similar.

“That was really fucking stupid of you, you know that?” Nishi speaks up after a long silence. Her gaze is directed at the ground, like she really doesn’t want to say what she’s saying, but her words still carry weight.

“I know,” Yoshida starts, “but I—”

“But nothing!” I hear from behind me, and I’m hardly surprised when Okuda steps forward, turning her back to the rest of us. “Nishi is right. I…,” she pauses, taking time to choose her words, “I can understand your concern, Yoshida. I can’t say I haven’t thought of doing something like that, given the situation we’ve been placed in.”

“So then you get—”

“I’m not _finished_ , Yoshida!” She puts a hand up to her face, maybe trying to collect herself after that small outburst of emotion. “I said I _thought_ about it. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t ever once consider actually doing it.” She stares him straight in the eye, towering over him, and Yoshida seems to shrivel in her shadow. “You know why?”

Yoshida says nothing, but his facial expression reads _no_.

“Because I thought about what I would do if any of the rest of you tried that, and I…,” she takes a deep breath. I can’t see her face, but when she speaks again, she sounds hoarse, “I knew I didn’t want any of you getting yourselves hurt. So for you to go up there, to foolishly risk your _life_ for just a slim _chance_ of saving us—”

“I didn’t care about that!” Yoshida yells back, but his face doesn’t show anger; it shows worry. “Maybe if Monokuma wasn’t around, I could have—”

“Shut _up_!” Okuda screams, her voice cracking halfway through. The courtyard is dead for a moment; the only audible sounds are Okuda’s ragged, heavy breathing and Hisakawa’s whimpering sobs a few yards away. “We’re not talking about ‘what ifs’. You could have died, you _idiot_ ,” she growls, and I see Yoshida’s face contort into an expression of regret.

“Okuda—” Fujita starts, maybe in an attempt to calm her down. But we never find out, because the courtyard turns silent again as Okuda turns around to leave.

Her eyes are wet and puffy, her face covered in red splotches. She grits her teeth as she catches our expressions; she must hate showing weakness, I realize. I just can’t believe I didn’t hear it in her voice. She’d been crying.

“I was worried about you, you asshole,” she mutters as she breezes through the crowd. I can see one of us reach out for her—in my stupor, I don’t realize who it is— but she strikes his hand down with a violent slap. “Fuck off, Kristoffer,” she says without looking at him, and for some reason that’s when her voice betrays her. She stops short as she chokes on her words, before sprinting to the hotel doors without a single sob escaping her lips.

No one else has anything else to say after that. The sun is just starting to set, and despite the lack of a Monokuma Announcement, everyone feels ready to retreat back to their dorms. I can feel my adrenaline wearing off; can feel my shoulders sag in exhaustion, but I find myself standing around until it’s just me and Yoshida. I take a step towards him, keeping my voice quiet as I approach. Part of me is afraid I’ll scare him off somehow. “Yoshida.”

“You understand why I did what I did, right?” he asks immediately. He looks me straight in the eye and suddenly I’ve been put on the spot.

“I—,” I find the words are caught in my throat. I understand _why_ he did it, but I also understand he isn’t looking for _understanding_. He’s looking for _acceptance_. And I just can’t accept what he did. I stare at my sneakers hard, breathing steadily as I let my vision unfocus. “No, I don’t.” Yoshida doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his burning stare on me. “I could never understand what you just did,” I repeat, more to convince myself than him.

“ _Fine_ ,” I hear, and I look up just in time to see a flash of orange hair brush past me.

\- - -

I travel back to my dorm in a daze. I can’t say it isn’t unintentional—thinking about Yoshida is the last thing I want to do. When I finally reach my room, exhaustion finally takes over, and I don’t even change out of my clothes before climbing into bed. But I don’t fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Instead, all of the thoughts I had been holding back flood through my mind, and I don’t fall asleep until hours later.

As I drift off, I hear Monokuma’s nighttime announcement, lulling me to sleep.

_[Monokuma Theatre]_

_Have I ever mentioned how much I love dogs? They’re such great little critters! Sure, they’ll run around the house, tear up furniture, poop on your carpet, wake you up at night, nag you i you leave them alone for too long, demand extra servings of food, drag you all around until you take them to the park, eat all your homework, rob you of your money, steal your girlfriend, and threaten to fire you from your pitiful job as a minimum-wage janitor unless you give them a foot massage, but hey! At least you have a pet dog!_


	5. Chapter 1, Part 3 (Incomplete)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it has been a long while, hasn't it? Well that's because Silky and I basically quit writing this story over a year ago and put it on permanent hiatus. I'm just uploading this part right now because I found it while clearing out my old Gmail account and figured I might as well upload it.
> 
> Without further ado, the lost section of Dangan Ronpa Negative.

“Good morning, inmates! It is now 7 AM. Rise and shine and get ready for another beautiful day here at Hope’s Peak Academy’s Detention Facility!”

I don’t think I can take much more of this. I’ve only been here for three days, but just the sound of that bear’s voice makes my head spin. My stomach growls from underneath the covers, and I wonder if it’s from hunger or nausea. My stomach definitely feels empty (I hardly ate yesterday), but there’s a feeling of squeamishness settling in my chest, which seems to confirm a mixture of both.

All I want to do is go back to sleep, but I don’t think I could; I can still hear that all-too-cheerful voice ringing in my ears. I pull myself out of bed, trying to ignore the feeling of being weighed down, like there are anvils attached to my feet. I trudge over to my closet, pulling it open and grabbing the first clothes that catch my eye: white dress shirt, navy tie, grey sweater, plaid skirt. I throw everything on my bed, deciding to take a shower before I head out.

It only takes me about fifteen minutes to shower; longer than usual, but I almost fell asleep halfway through. I grab a hairbrush off the dusty metal “nightstand” next to my bed, taking a minute to run it through my hair. I do it faster than I should and the bristles catch on the tangles, leaving me with red marks of agitation on my scalp. It stings, but I’m thankful that it helped wake me up.

I get dressed as quickly as I can in my state of bleariness and throw on a pair of sneakers before heading out the door. The first person I see when I step out is Yamamoto, waiting in front of the elevator with her earbuds in. I wave to her as I enter her line of sight and she perks up, reaching down to pause the music on her MP3 player before greeting me. I feel a little disappointed when I see the small, purple device, and it takes me a beat to realize why: I had been hoping she listened to her music on a phone. But why would that have mattered? Even if Yamamoto had her phone with her, she would have already tried to contact the outside world and known that it was useless. I doubt there’s cellphone service here; or internet, for that matter.

“Morning,” Yamamoto says, and even though it’s a blunt hello, she says it with a little smile that actually looks genuine. She looks a lot brighter than usual, overall—she’s a teal shirt with a robot on it and bright pink pants; neither of which compliment her dark hair and eye makeup. Part of me wonders if it’s an attempt to cheer herself up after yesterday’s incident, but I brush that thought aside. Better not to look into it.

“Good morning,” I greet back, but I have no idea where to lead the conversation from there. The elevator doors swish open, and Yamamoto steps in wordlessly, drilling her earbud back in. By the time I’ve joined her, she’s already pressed the button that will take us to the bottom floor. The elevator doors close; compared to how they opened, they seem to be moving incredibly slow.

The only sound on the way down is the faded noise of metal music escaping from Yamamoto’s earbuds. I fiddle with my tie and try not to think about what a good opportunity this would be for her to kill me.

_ _ _

To my surprise, most of my classmates are already eating breakfast. More to my surprise is the fact that we even have food to eat. I hang my the edge of the table closest to the door, staring at Kaneko as she picks a mushroom out of what appears to be some kind of soup. She’s seated with Narita, Miyagi, Kimura, and Akemiyama, but they don’t seem to pay me any mind. I can’t blame them; I haven’t eaten in a while, either.

“Ah, good morning, Saito-san!” she says once she finally notices I’m there, smiling from underneath her tophat. She looks like she does on TV; done up in all black and sequins. She’s even wearing makeup: dark eyeshadow and bright red lipstick. I silently think that she might feel better like this; feeling closer to her talent. I wonder if she feels powerful on stage; like she could do anything. I know I would. Maybe she’s trying to channel that same sort of energy.

“Ummm, Saito-saaaaan? Earth to Saito-san…,” she calls out to me, her voice like a fresh coat of paint. She certainly does sound chipper, but I don’t think I can manage that same kind of spirit. Not today.

“Oh. Morning,” I greet her, giving her a smile that probably doesn’t look all that convincing. I decide to change the subject before she can comment upon it. “Where’d you get the food from?”

Kaneko scrunches up her lips, like she wants to say something she really shouldn’t. “Yoshida-kun made it.”

“Yoshida?” I echo in surprise.

“Yeah. It’s alright; I mean, it’s probably way better than anything that Monokuma would make, but everything has _mushrooms_ in it, and I’ve just never been a fan—”

“No, no, no,” I cut her off, hardly caring about whatever rant she was about to delve into. There are more important things right now than mushrooms. “I mean… Yoshida? Where is he? Is he alright?”

Kaneko stares at me with wide eyes for a moment, before pointing her dripping spoon in the direction of the kitchen. “I guess? He’s still cooking…”

I’m making a beeline for the kitchen before Kaneko can even finish her sentence. I push the metal swinging doors open, making quite the clatter as I enter. Yoshida is standing over a pot at the stove, and he turns around to see what the commotion is all about. I freeze in the doorway, suddenly locked in a stare-off with the same boy I nearly told off yesterday.

All too suddenly, he narrows his eyes at me, before turning back to the pot in front of him. “What do you want?” he says it casually, but I can see his grip on the ladle, halfway in the pot, tighten.

“I just…,” I pause, “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he replies, keeping the ladle in the bowl so he can roll up the sleeves of his hoodie, which were already rolled up a little below his elbows. They rest right above his elbow now, in big grey clumps. “If that’s all you have to say to me, then you can go.”

I take a step forward. “Yoshida—”

He doesn’t even bother trying to look busy this time; he just stares down at the pot. “I said _go_.”

I do not move forward, but I certainly do not go. Part of me thinks he wants me to stay. “I… didn’t think you’d show back up so soon.” He sends me a look this time, and I flounder for a way to reword what I just said. “I mean, I thought you’d stay in your room or something. Not make everyone breakfast.”

He’s back to idly stirring whatever’s in the pot now, his eyes firmly glued upon it. “I’ve done a lot of stupid things before, Saito. I’m just trying to make up for my mistakes. Maybe then everyone will be able to trust me.”

I’m brought back to what he told me when we first met here: _“I’ll try to show that you can trust me.”_

“Yoshida,” I start carefully, slowly making my way towards him, “if this is about what happened back in grade school, then…” I stop when I’m standing squarely behind him and hesitate before placing a hand on his shoulder. I look for some sort of reaction—even if I can’t see his face—something that will tell me what’s bothering him so much right now.

I can feel Yoshida squirm and I let my hand fall to my side. He grows oddly still, and it takes a while before he speaks. “Can you forgive all the stuff I did back then?”

Silently, I shake my head. “I can’t forgive all the things you did in the past,” I tell him, and I can see his shoulders fall. I reach my hand out to place on one shoulder again, and this time I turn him around to face me. “But I can forgive you.”

I can see Yoshida turn red; it spreads throughout his whole face and reminds me vaguely of the time I saw Narita kiss him on the cheek. He must blush easily. “Thanks.” He stares down at his sneakers—they’re bright pink, maybe even neon. I stare with him, having no idea what else I should do. Most guys don’t own shoes like that; they’re definitely not the kind of thing he would have worn back in elementary school. I remember one time when he and his friends made fun of a kid for wearing pink, just because it was a “girls’ color”. I wonder what happened to those friends. Where are they now? Did Yoshida abandon them a long time ago, or do they accept him and his pink shoes? _And pink track shorts_ , I think, seeing the same color peeking out from underneath his apron.

"You have really green eyes, you know.”

“What?” I flinch, his words shaking me out of my thought process.

“Um, I mean… They’re… It’s, well…” His eyes flicker back to his shoes again. “Never mind. I just pay too much attention to this kind of stuff.”

“Oh,” I say, but I can’t help but wonder if this is his way of trying to compliment me. I know he wants to be nice, but it is a little uncomfortable. “Well, thanks,” I tell him, offering a smile as I take a step back.

“No problem,” he replies, and he returns his gaze to the pot. “Oh! Do you want some breakfast? I have cream of mushroom soup, and there’s also some eggs, if you want them…” He points to some plates on the counter piled with fluffy, golden eggs. Scrambled.

“Uh, sure.” I walk over and pick up a plate, only to stops when I notice small white, grey, and light brown pieces mixed together with the fluffy substance. I’m about to ask what it is when I realize that Yoshida really did put mushrooms in everything.

“Is something wrong?” I hear Yoshida ask. He must be concerned with the way I’m eyeing my meal.

I sigh and end up smiling despite myself. “It’s nothing,” I assure him, before taking the plate and heading back out to the mess hall. By now, Nishi, Okuda, Fujita, and Hisakawa have arrived at the tables, too. I walk over to sit with Kaneko and the others, but I overhear them talking.

“I’m just saying, if we could all just lighten up and go with the flow for a bit, we could actually make our time worth our while here!” Fujita seems frantic, waving his hands around to get the attention of the others. He accidentally knocks off his glasses and, cursing, bends down to retrieve them.

“Gee, great idea, Fujita-kun. I wonder why none of us thought of that,” Nishi says, leaning back in her chair, planting her pastel-colored flats on top of the table. “Oh yeah. That’s right. Because it’s a _terrible_ one.”

Hisakawa, sitting beside her in a sweater with an odd print (animals in hats?), speaks up. “N-Nishi-san is right! We can’t just give up!”

Fujita returns from his quest on the floor and stands up, wiping his glasses against the fabric of his navy blue T-shirt. “It isn’t ‘giving up!’” he insists, but he’s definitely speaking less enthusiastically than before. “We’ll get out eventually, but right now we have nowhere to go except here! So let’s just live with it for now!” He places the glasses back on his face, before squinting and taking them off again, this time trying to clean them with his jacket.

Just then, Monokuma’s voice came blaring over the mess hall speakers. “ _You’ll just live with it?_ Live _with it? Oh boy, was that the wrong choice of words to say!_ ”

Not this again…” Kimura rolls his eyes and stirs his soup, playing with the floating mushrooms. “Not after yesterday’s air show…”

“ _Ahem! Attention, students! Meet up in the Grand Hall for a delectable piece of news! I’m sure that you all are going to love what I have in store! I expect you to arrive in the next five minutes. Don’t keep me waiting!_ ” And with that, the intercom toned off.

There’s a short moment of silence in the cafeteria before Miyagi breaks it with a long groan. “ _Reeeeaaaally?!_ I just finished picking the mushrooms out of my soup. Now we have to leave for some announcement thingy? I just want to _eeeeaaaat…_ ”

“Why’d you have to go and do that? The mushrooms are the best part!” Yoshida steps out of the kitchen doors, wiping his hands on his apron. “Plus, there are so many health benefits to them!”

Miyagi eats a big spoonful of the soup and replies, “Yoshi-chan, you’re a fun guy, but I just don’t like mushrooms. They’re icky.”

“What’s ‘icky’ is your sweater, Miyagi. You’ve got mushrooms all over it,” Kimura is right; the grey mushrooms almost blend in with Miyagi’s black and white sweater, but they’re still noticeable. “And your face! It’s covered in food. Oh, come here, let me clean you up.” Kimura grabs a napkin and sets to work on cleaning up Miyagi’s mess.

Across the room, Okuda quickly finishes her bowl and slams it down onto the table before rising to her feet. “Okay! We have a new day ahead of us, people! Whatever this bear dishes out can’t possibly stop us now, so let’s meet this challenge with the best of our determination!” She looks confident, but the way she’s tugging on the bottom on her top gives it away. She marches out of the room before anyone can argue otherwise, so we have no choice but to follow her.

It isn’t a long walk from the mess hall to the Grand Hall, but thoughts are blaring through my head, making the whole trip seem painfully slow. What does Monokuma want out of us this time? It obviously has something to do with this whole “mutual killing” thing. But what is he planning to do; pull us inside and convince us that killing each other is the only logical way out of this situation? It sounds too ridiculous to be true.

When we walk into the Grand Hall, it’s as silent and empty as ever. But as soon as the last person walks in, the door slams shut, and Misaki squeaks as the back of her skirt gets caught in between the swinging doors. Akemiyama reaches out to help her, but her predicament is all but forgotten when Monokuma comes bouncing up from behind the podium.

“Heeeeeeello, inmates!” he cheers, giving us all his usual perma-grin. “How’s everybody doin’ on this fine, fine morning? You all enjoying your stay?”

Nobody replies, but I think I see Kurosawa flip him off.

Monokuma’s mechanical eyes seem to narrow. “Hmm, tough crowd. But I’m sure you’ll all liven up when you see what I’ve got for you all today!”

There’s a pause, and it seems Monokuma is waiting for a reaction. I don’t expect anyone to speak, so I’m surprised when someone does. “A-and what would that be?” asks Tsukino, her voice trembling.

At this, Monokuma perks up. “I’m glad you asked, Miss Mystery! I’ve brought you all here for a very important reason, you see.” He hops off of the podium and lands on the floor, pacing forward. We part to make way for him—no one wants to be that close to Monokuma—and in an instant Monokuma has an aisle to walk up and down at his leisure. “You’ve all been hesitating, you see!”

“‘Hesitating,’” Narita echoes with a frown, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yes!” Monokuma shouts, pivoting to point his shiny little paw in Narita’s direction. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about! Not a single one of you has made a move to kill!”

“As if we’d do that,” Nishi mutters, and I can’t help but notice how awkward she looks despite her tone, haphazardly tugging on the hem of her beige skirt.

“You say that now,” Monokuma tempts, “but I think you might change your minds after you hear my news.”

I can see Okuda’s hands ball up into tight fists, and I can tell she’s about to say something all of us can agree on. “There’s no way we’ll believe anything you tell us.”

“Regardless of what you say, just a shred of doubt could set off a whole massacre,” Monokuma tells her, his voice low. “But I’m sure you already knew that!” he finishes, letting out a laugh.

“Are you done?” Koga asks, and I can’t help but notice how close he’s holding his gun.

We all watch in restless silence as Monokuma hops back onto the platform and climbs up the podium. “Oh, I’ve only just begun.” With that, he does a little twirl and gestures to the wall behind him. In a normal circumstance it would have been cute, but right now it just feels sickening. “Allow me to present your first motive!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulls out a small remote with a red button. Upon activation, a ray of light (which came from a projector I hadn’t noticed before) shines towards the wall and an old-fashioned black and white film countdown flashes on screen.

The film begins with a shot of a piano, with its player in the middle of his work. It’s a relaxing tune, much like what you’d hear while waiting in an elevator. Not at all what I expected from a video about killing people.

When the pianist finally finishes his song, he pushes out his bench and stands up. He’s wearing a fitted vest over a dark button-up with a bow tie, but the celluloid film makes the color indistinguishable. He gives a small smile and bows.

“Good morning, denizens of Hope’s Peak Academy, and welcome to our Detention Center sect. You will spend the rest of your pathetic lives here until you betray your friends, commit murder, and avoid getting caught.” His voice is calm and smooth, without any malice or mockery, unlike Monokuma. Even when talking down to us, his gentle expression is unphased.

“But of course, you already knew that. You’ve considered the possibilities and have sworn against murder entirely. That’s where I ome in.” He sticks out his hand as if he’s reaching for a handshake with the audience and smiles a bit more brightly.”

“My name is Shiori Inoue, and I’ll be your guide to Monokuma’s various murder motives. I hope you enjoy the show.” As he finishes, he walks away from the piano and exits the frame, transitioning the scene to what looks like the lobby of the prison’s hotel.

“Now, there’s only so much a person can take before despair takes them over and each person may be more susceptible to certain motives than others are. For instance, someone with high dreams may be more likely to kill for money, or a person with a haunting past may do whatever it takes to keep it under wraps. Even so, many people will glance over things like this without a care.”

“That’s why when designing a motive, you must be able to strike terror and despair into the minds of every possible individual to maximize the danger of death, the opportunity for obliteration, the possibilities of passing away. You know, get the most bang out of your buck. Except for us, it’s the most murder out of your motive.” He chuckles lightly and brushes his short-cut hair.

“That’s why I’m here to tell you all that someone dearly close to you is in grave danger. It may be a parent, a sibling, a friend, or even a pet, but you all should have a feeling about who it is.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for me to process the idea that someone in my family could die at any moment.

“Now, here’s the kicker; only you, the viewers on the other side of this screen, can save them. How do you do this? By committing murder of course! If you graduate from you detention, your special someone will be immediately rescued from their imminent danger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what'd you think? We had an entire story planned out for Chapter 1, as well for all future Chapters. Silky and I had grown super attached to the characters in the story, but we just ended up becoming disconnected from the actual writing. So, I leave this empty scrap of a page to you. Who knows? We may pick it up again if DR3 reinvigorates my eagerness to write. No promises, though.


End file.
